Chapter Text
“GIVE ME YOUR EYE OR I WILL TAKE IT, BASTARD!”
Aemond Targaryen made his threats in the great hall of Storm’s End. He pursued Lucerys on dragonback, tormenting him with Vhagar while the storm raged. Once his fun was had however, Aemond turned his dragon in the direction of King’s Landing. It would be folly to truly injure the prince at such a critical point in the war, but he had struck some fear into the boy’s heart and that was enough for him, for now.
Prince Lucerys Velaryon returned to Dragonback, frightened but unharmed, with ill news to share.
“The Baratheons will not support our cause,” Luke announced as he walked into the war room, drenched from the storm outside.
“Luke, my boy,” Rhaenyra said, rushing over to his side. She pulled him into a hug and planted a kiss on his temple.
“Are you alright?” Corlys asked, noticing how the boy still shook, both from the chill and Aemond’s chase.
“Aemond reached Storm’s End before I did, the Baratheons have pledged themselves to the Greens,” Luke said, pushing past the question. He didn’t want to admit how scared he was in front of everyone.
His mother still eyed him as if something was wrong, but she moved past it as the other advisors at the war table took in this information.
“It is a significant loss,” Corlys mused. “The Greens now have the support of four of the nine great houses.”
The Martells would never involve themselves in the war, so Rhaenyra would have to hope she had the support of the other four. She wouldn’t know until Jacaerys returned, which could take days or weeks depending on how long he stays in the Eyrie and Winterfell.
There was more than just that to consider. The Song of Ice and Fire, it echoed in Rhaenyra’s head like a never-ending drum. If only her father never told her of that damned secret. She had a duty to the realm and to her father to not plunge it into a war if it could yet be helped.
And Alicent…her message pleading for peace. It tugged on Rhaenyra’s heart even now. She had already had to bury Visenya, how many more children would she have to bury if this war was to occur? How many would Alicent have to bury?
Daemon did not share her want for peace. “We should burn them for their treason,” he muttered. He stood up suddenly, “Envoys and negotiations will not win us this war.”
“It is not yet a war, Daemon,” Rhaenyra reminded him.
“The Greens made it a war by crowning Aegon. The longer we toil, the more time they have to strike at us first,” Daemon argued. “If you do not care to defend your claim-”
“Do not mistake my cautiousness for a lack of care,” Rhaenyra said, angrily.
“Perhaps,” Rhaena interrupted before the argument could continue, “It would be best to turn in for the night. I’m sure we all have much to think about and Lucerys is quite weary from his journey.”
Daemon huffed, stalking off with a goblet of win, likely to sulk or plot. Rhaenyra saw the sense in what the girl said, letting Lucerys leave to change out of his rain-soaked clothes and rest in his chambers while Rhaenyra retired to hers to think.
Or at least, it was her intention to think. She found, upon reaching her chambers, sleep took her faster than expected. She was much too tired. Tired of planning, tired of worrying over her sons as they went off as envoys, tired of ceaseless arguing with Daemon over her considering Aegon’s peace.
She had barely been queen for two days and was already feeling the unbearable weight of the crown.
Rhaenyra held her head high as Otto approached with a dozen guards at his back, a new Hand of the King pin adorning his chest. He had come for her answer. Once and for all, she must decide now. War or peace.
Her heart and mind were pulled in both directions. Luke had told her of Aemond’s taunting at Storm’s End and on dragonback. Even if she agreed to peace, what assurances did she have that her children would not come to harm? Aegon and Aemond had been at odds with her sons since they were boys, could she truly trust his peace?
But she knew in her heart that she didn’t want war. She didn’t want the risk that her children would be taken from her, along with likely thousands of other innocent lives, just so she could wear a crown on her head. The Song and the great evil from the North, the survival of the entire realm, wasn’t that more important than her pride?
She spent more time than she would like to admit this morning staring at the page that Alicent had kept all these years. Their childhood memories, so carefree, full of life and love. What Rhaenyra wouldn’t give to go back to those days…
“Princess,” Otto greeted, as he always insisted upon calling her. “I do hope you’ve agreed to our terms.”
“I have indeed considered them over these past days,” Rhaenyra began, shakily. Even she didn’t know where that sentence was going. Daemon stared at her pointedly, anger in his eyes. She knew more than anything that her husband wanted to cut Otto down where he stood instead of entertaining any ideas of peace.
Rhaenyra took a deep breath. War would mean certain tragedy for her family, though peace still carried a chance at the same. At least with war, it would be for something. To win her birthright, as her father intended. And yet…
The silence that had overtaken the bridge was broken as a screech sounded through the air. Rhaenyra worried for a moment it was Caraxes and Daemon’s patience had worn thin, but she quickly realized it was something else.
Through the clouds above came a golden dragon with scales as bright as the stars. It almost seemed to glisten in the midday sun. The dragon keepers called him the most beautiful dragon to ever live.
Sunfyre had come to Dragonstone.
Daemon pulled out his sword in an instant, leveling it at Otto, clearly believing this to be a trap. Rhaenyra saw Otto’s face however, he was just as confused as they were.
“Stay your hand, Daemon,” she ordered him, holding up her hand.
“Are you fucking serious?” Daemon spat.
“Stay your hand,” she repeated, her eyes focused on the dragon as it landed behind Otto’s men with another roar. She could see her half-brother patting his dragon just before he swung out of the saddle, the conqueror’s crown seated on his head and Blackfyre affixed to his waist.
Otto recovered from his surprise, “Presenting King Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name!”
Aegon marched through the crowd of soldiers to his Hand’s side. Otto leaned over to whisper in his ear, likely to ask why he had come, but Aegon flatly ignored him.
“Queen Rhaenyra,” he greeted.
“Princess Rhaenyra,” Otto corrected through gritted teeth.
Aegon waved his hand and rolled his eyes, it was all the same to him. “I’ve come to accept your surrender.”
“Quite presumptuous of you, brother,” Rhaenyra spoke cautiously. She reminded him of their familial relation just in case he had truly come to harm her. No man, especially a king, wanted to be a kinslayer. But then, Aegon never much cared for customs and rules.
Aegon hummed, “You do not find our terms agreeable?”
Rhaenyra could put off her answer no longer. “No, I do not.”
Aegon nodded slowly. Lazily, he said, “Then we shall make new terms.”
Otto scoffed, “Your Grace-” Aegon held up his hand to silence him. He almost acted like a proper king, Rhaenyra thought, or he would if all his mannerisms did not so clearly convey how disinterested he was.
“New terms?” Rhaenyra echoed.
“Let us discuss whatever must be done to make peace,” Aegon said simply. “Just you and I.”
Daemon looked as if he was prepared to remove his nephew’s head instead while Rhaenyra considered his words. It may not be possible to find peace between them that would satisfy them both, but she supposed it couldn’t hurt to try.
If looks could kill, Daemon would’ve murdered everyone on that bridge when Rhaenyra agreed to meet privately and discuss terms.
As they sat down in her chambers on Dragonstone, Aegon helped himself to an entire flagon of wine.
“If I might ask,” Rhaenyra began as she watched Aegon pour a nearly overflowing goblet, “Why did you come to Dragonstone yourself?”
Aegon looked at her dumbly, “To make peace.”
“I mean, why did you come yourself? You could have sent an envoy or more simply given new orders to your Hand to renegotiate.”
Aegon smirked lightly, “The truth in that is that my brother told us quite the tale when he returned from Storm’s End. Said he scared the piss out of your bas…out of uhh…Lucerys.” She almost appreciated his restraint at not calling her son a bastard, if he didn’t also blatantly nearly forget her son’s name.
“Being entirely honest with you, sister, I thought it was quite amusing. No harm done, just a bit of fun.” Luke certainly didn’t see it that way, Rhaenyra thought. Aegon downed the rest of his wine, already, as he continued, “But my dear mother didn’t see it that way. She worried this incident would end our chances at peace and beseeched me to come myself as a show of…something or other, I forget the exact words. But I’m here to ensure you agree.”
Gods, this is the man half of Westeros wants to replace me with, Rhaenyra thought. Her half-brother was a mess, clearly not fit to rule.
“You want peace?” Rhaenyra asked. “Remove that crown from your head and kneel to me. I am the rightful heir.”
Aegon barely spared her a glance as he poured himself another glass of wine. It seemed to take him a second to process what she said, but he surprisingly complied. He took the crown off, the conqueror’s crown which was over a century old and one of the most prized heirlooms of their house, and tossed it on the ground with an unceremonious clang.
Her younger brother half-heartedly got out of his seat and sank to one knee. He recited with little enthusiasm, “I swear my undying loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra, First of Her Name, and all the other bloody words and stuff.”
Rhaenyra was stunned into silence for a second. It cannot be that simple.
Aegon chuckled suddenly, slinking back into his seat as he took another swig of wine, leaving his crown forgotten on the floor. “If it were that easy, dear sister, we would not be here.”
More solemnly, he continued, “I have no wish to be king nor do I think I’ll do a particularly good job. But I’m the firstborn son, I don’t get a choice in this. The lords will never accept your rule while I live and I do not personally wish to die.”
Rhaenyra understood his meaning, “If we wish for there to be peace, it will have to be I who gives up their crown.”
“Precisely. So, what do you want?” Aegon asked plainly. “What will it take for peace?”
He doesn’t seem very good at negotiations, Rhaenyra figured. He didn’t even come with any ideas, he just wanted her to name her price.
Rhaenyra thought carefully about what to ask for. Otto’s offer had been generous but not sufficient to make up for losing her crown and being robbed of her birthright. But then, what could? What could possibly make up for losing the last gift her father ever gave her?
Aegon was clearly getting impatient, as he drank one cup and then another right after. He reached for the flagon to pour a third but Rhaenyra moved it away from him. Little as she cared for her brother, she did not want to see him drink himself to death, especially when he needed to be of sound mind for their negotiations.
Aegon huffed and rolled his eyes but didn’t move to take the flagon again. “They say the best alliances are sealed in matrimony,” Aegon mused idly. Rhaenyra hummed in agreement.
A marriage alliance may help to make peace, he was right in that. She had once tried to heal the divide in their families with a betrothal of Jace to Helaena, not that Alicent ever considered the proposal truly. Unless it was the right marriage, it would do little for peace. If Visenya had lived, she and Aegon’s eldest, Jaehaerys, may have been the perfect match, allowing Rhaenyra’s blood to be queen consort in time. However, Rhaenyra shook the thought away. It did not do to dwell on what might have been.
“Your daughter, Jaehaera, and my son, Aegon,” Rhaenyra figured. Jaehaera was not in line for the Iron Throne and Aegon was fourth in line for Dragonstone after her, so their match was not ideal but it was one of the few possible.
Aegon was silent for quite a bit, thinking over the offer or perhaps too drunk to process it. She wondered for a moment if he even heard her but eventually he nodded, “Done.”
But surely that would not be enough. It nagged at Rhaenyra’s mind, this was not enough to pay for her giving up her birthright. But she didn’t know what, if anything, could replace it.
Aegon took advantage of her, lost in thought, swiping the flagon again and pouring himself another cup. Gods, he’ll be useless as king, she thought. Otto Hightower might as well wear the crown for all the difference it would make. Aegon’s Hand will essentially be running the realm, as the king will be too drunk to ever work against him.
Rhaenyra sat up straight as the idea came to her. She may not wear a crown on her head anymore, but she could still rule. She could root the Greens out of her home, mend what they have broken in the Seven Kingdoms. And she could do it all in Aegon’s name.
“Name me to be your Hand,” Rhaenyra practically ordered. Aegon looked up in surprise, clearly not expecting that request. “I understand it’s unorthodox to name a woman as-”
“Done,” Aegon interrupted. Rhaenyra blinked, did Aegon even know what he was agreeing to? “Old Otto is quite a bore, anyway.”
“That he is,” Rhaenyra agreed, hesitantly. It seemed almost too easy. She waited for the rug to be pulled out from under her but it never came.
“Are those your terms then?”
“In addition to the ones already promised by Otto. My family will take possession of Dragonstone, to pass to Jacaerys upon my death, and Lucerys will be confirmed in his inheritance of Driftmark,” Rhaenyra said. She left out the high positions at court for Aegon and Viserys. She didn’t want them to be used as hostages, which they certainly would be, and figured it would be easier to convince Daemon to agree to this peace without it.
“And,” Rhaenyra continued, “I will also need an assurance that my sons will not come to harm, after that incident in Storm’s End.”
Aegon chucked at that, as if it was hilarious that her son had been frightened half to death. “I have no quarrel with your sons, so long as they agree to uphold my claim alongside you.”
“And what of Aemond?”
Aegon’s expression turned slightly bitter and wry, “What of our brother?”
“Will he not be punished for terrorizing a peace envoy?”
“Was your son punished for slashing out the eye of a prince?” Aegon countered.
“You were children then. Aemond is a man grown now with the most dangerous dragon under his control,” Rhaenyra argued.
“Lucerys came to no harm,” Aegon said. A beat passed, he continued, exasperated, “I will speak to my brother, your son will remain at Dragonstone or Driftmark or wherever that isn’t the capital, and we will all be done with this, agreed?”
That was very much not the assurance that she wanted. She was already planning for Lucerys to begin staying at Driftmark to prepare him as Lord of the Tides but she didn’t know how much she trusted Aegon to truly reprimand his brother, considering he had clearly found amusement in the whole incident.
Still, it had to be better than sending her sons off to war.
There was still much to be done. The Velaryons will need to be sated for losing their alliance to the Iron Throne, there will still be those who balk at her being Hand, and Daemon…
She didn’t know how she would explain all of this to Daemon but he would understand in time, she hoped. It was her responsibility to keep peace in the realm and she would still rule, even if it was not the way her father intended.
“Have we reached satisfactory peace terms then?” Aegon interrupted.
It was her last chance to second guess herself, but this time, she didn’t. “We have. You will have peace, Your Grace.”
Aegon smiled, pouring her a cup of wine and sliding it over as he raised his to her. “A joyous day for all the realm, then.”
“One more thing,” she said. Aegon’s shoulders fell but he waved her to speak. “I wish to be the one to tell Ser Otto.”
Aegon laughed heartily as they clinked their drinks together and he readily agreed.
Ser Otto smirked the entire time that she laid her crown at Aegon’s feet and pledged her loyalty to him before all on Dragonstone. It made it all the sweeter when she plucked the Hand of the King pin from his clothes and tossed it into the waters of Dragonstone again. They could make a new one for her when they returned to King’s Landing.
Otto was livid, of course. “I have served your father and his grandsire before him, I have more experience ruling than any man alive. It was I who put that crown on your head, Aegon!”
Aegon cared little and less for his ramblings and Rhaenyra could privately admit she got some selfish satisfaction at seeing Otto’s stern demeanor finally unravel. He had gotten what he wanted, his blood on the throne, but he would not reap the benefits.
“The realm will forever be in your debt for your service,” Rhaenyra assured him, trying her hardest to hide the smug expression on her own. “Spend your final years in Oldtown with your family, you have more than earned this rest.”
He huffed and he shouted but Aegon had made his choice and all agreed to it. No man could truly say Otto as Hand was worth more than peace in the Seven Kingdoms. It was an acceptable compromise.
After Otto, she trailed back up to the castle to speak to Daemon privately. He had bolted off in anger as soon as she entered peace talks with Aegon and apparently had locked himself away in his chambers.
“You must understand, Daemon,” Rhaenyra began. Daemon eyed her angrily, not saying a word but allowing her to speak. “No crown is worth the cost if it tears apart our family and countless others across the realm. I will still rule as Aegon’s Hand, in spirit if not in name.”
Daemon remained silent, gritting his teeth together. Of course, she also had to tell him the news. “Our son, Aegon, will be wed to Jaehaera when they both come of age as part of the agree-”
She couldn’t even finish her sentence before Daemon’s rage boiled over. She barely saw his hand before it crashed hard across her cheek. She stumbled back a few steps in shock, clutching her face where he’d struck her.
Daemon’s expression faltered for a moment, almost regretful but his fingers twitched as if they were begging to hit her again. Rhaenyra stared back silently, trying to show defiance in her eyes but she didn’t know how well that was coming across.
He had promised her, he had sworn to her, that his attempt to choke her had been a mistake in the heat of the moment and it would never happen again. It hadn’t even been a week since then.
Any words that Daemon wanted to say died in his throat and he walked away angrily, leaving her hurt and confused. He was her husband, her love, the first man she ever desired. Rhaenyra could still recall the relief and comfort she felt when they wed at long last. It seemed unthinkable to her that he could treat her so coldly and callously. Almost like…almost like Rhea Royce.
Part of her felt like that scared little girl alone in the brothel that day, unsure and lost. Before she recovered enough to leave Daemon’s chambers, she heard the loud and unnatural screeches of Caraxes. Out the window she could see, the Blood Wyrm flew up and up and up, past the clouds and far away from the island. Daemon had left without another word and she didn’t know when he was coming back.
It sounded too good to be true to Alicent. She had sent her son as a last-ditch effort to end the war before it began, and he had done it. By the gods, he had actually done it.
Rhaenyra was named as his new Hand, with her father sent back to Oldtown but it seemed such a small price to pay, if it was even a price at all. Rhaenyra would stay in King’s Landing, with Alicent. She recalled Rhaenyra’s wisdom from their many years on the council together. They did not always see eye to eye in those days, but she would certainly be a more capable ruler of the kingdoms than Aegon, even if it was not in name.
The rest of the keep took the news less well than she, to varying degrees. Tyland thought it was a joke at first. Jasper balked at the idea of a woman being Hand and Orwyle spoke the praises of Otto, insisting His Grace was making a mistake. Aegon didn’t listen to their dissent though, aside from a drunken threat to Jasper’s position as Master of Laws.
Helaena was saddened by her grandfather’s leaving. Inexplicably, she had grown close to him and Otto had gifted her all the fatherly affection he never bestowed upon Alicent. Aemond huffed at the idea of Rhaenyra being in the keep with them but Aegon reminded him it was his stupidity that required him to go and renegotiate in the first place.
Criston had been quite tight-lipped about it since Aegon came bearing the news, though she suspected he was wroth about Rhaenyra’s return.
Their opinions mattered little to the queen though. Alicent felt the weight come off her shoulders that she’d been carrying as long as she could remember when the news came. Rhaenyra was coming home…
The memory of their last conversation, before the king passed away, had lit a spark of hope in the queen’s heart. She had felt so isolated and miserable for so long, but with Rhaenyra, it was as if they were girls again.
Alicent couldn’t explain it, truthfully. Even when she tried to despise Rhaenyra in their years apart, she could not. There was always a pull in her heart, a need to be close to Rhaenyra. Her heart would beat faster at just the thought of her and some of the happiest memories of her life were those days they spent together in their youth.
They had spent far too long as enemies. Perhaps they could finally mend their divide and grow as close as they once were again.
It was with that wish in her mind that she visited the Tower of the Hand after the princess arrived. Even all these years later, she never got used to it. It was once her home, however in her mind it had just become her father’s dreary office and the thousand plots he spun within it.
“The dowager queen, your highness,” a servant introduced her as she walked in. Rhaenyra was still unpacking her belongings, shooting a quick glance of acknowledgement their way before turning back.
The servant left without a word, leaving the princess and the queen alone together. It was only then that Alicent realized she had no idea what to say to Rhaenyra.
She started shakily with something light, “Are you settling in alright? I know this tower can be daunting.”
“As much as can be expected, I suppose,” Rhaenyra said with a sigh. “I remember this tower quite well too, I’m sure I’ll manage.”
Alicent grasped for something else to continue the conversation, “I have not seen Prince Daemon or your sons, did they not come with you?”
Rhaenyra averted her gaze, “Daemon is preoccupied. Jacaerys will be taking care of affairs on Dragonstone in my stead once he returns, Lucerys is with the Velaryons on Driftmark, my other boys are far too young for court.” Rhaenyra inwardly also thought better of bringing Joffrey to court after all the rumors surrounding her sons.
“I do hope we get the chance to introduce Jaehaera and Aegon. They will not be wed for well over a decade I know, but it will be good for them to get to know each other sooner rather than later,” Alicent said.
“Someday,” Rhaenyra nodded in agreement, then turned her attention back to her belongings.
Alicent sighed inwardly, clearly small talk wasn’t working. The queen steeled herself, she knew they would have to address it. “I trust my father delivered my message to you on Dragonstone?”
Rhaenyra paused momentarily, taking a deep breath before reaching into one of the trunks of belongings and pulling out the very same piece of paper she had sent her father off with. “You kept this page all these years.”
“I did.”
“Why?” Rhaenyra wondered, unfolding it. “I hardly remembered this until your father handed it to me.”
Alicent could’ve used any of the excuses she’d come up with over the years. I only kept it because I didn’t want the Septas to find out, I used it as a marker to remember my place in books, I just never got around to throwing it away, all lies.
“The day you gave it to me was right before the heir’s tourney. The last time I felt perfectly happy in my life. The page reminded me of all the wonderful memories of my youth. It always made me think of you.”
Rhaenyra opened her mouth to respond immediately but held back, looking down at the page sadly. Alicent had to believe she was feeling that same pull to her. That she wanted to reconcile and be friends again as much as Alicent did.
After a moment of silence, Rhaenyra finally responded, “You said I would make a fine queen, that night at dinner. Did you truly mean that?”
“Of course I did,” Alicent said.
“Then why did you crown Aegon?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice wavering. “I think about it more often than I should. You said all those kind words that night, I thought you were sincere and we were going to fix things, but then you turned around and usurped me.”
“I was sincere, I meant every word I said to you that night,” Alicent insisted. “But your father named Aegon as his heir, I only wanted to see his will done.”
“No, he didn’t,” Rhaenyra denied. “My father named me heir.”
“He changed his mind, Rhaenyra, I swear it is the truth,” Alicent tried.
“No, he didn’t,” Rhaenyra repeated, more firmly. “My father had twenty years to change the succession and he never did. He never looked twice in Aegon’s direction, I cannot believe he said such a thing.”
“He did,” Alicent continued. She didn’t know what else to say. It was the truth, she had heard it plainly. “I’m sorry Rhaenyra but it is true.”
Rhaenyra’s expression faltered, shaking her head slightly, “What did he say? How could he have said this?”
Alicent did not hesitate to tell the full story to Rhaenyra, which she had previously kept to herself. “When Aegon was just a babe, your father told me of his dream. A son born with the conqueror’s crown. I never thought much of it but the last time we spoke, he recalled that dream. He said his son, the prince Aegon, must sit the throne. To unite the realm against the dark.”
Rhaenyra perked up, she knew those words but they were not for Aegon. “The dark?”
“I was unsure myself as to what he meant by that, but the rest of his meaning was clear. He believed his dream to be true, he called Aegon the Prince That Was Promised.”
“The Song of Ice and Fire…” Rhaenyra said aloud, the truth dawning on her.
Now Alicent was caught off guard, “Yes, he did call it that. How did you…?”
Rhaenyra laughed, a bitter and mean-spirited laugh. “Alicent, he was talking about Aegon the Conqueror.”
Alicent’s brow furrowed, “Why would he speak of the conqueror? He was speaking of his dream about Aegon from years past-”
“No, he wasn’t,” Rhaenyra said. “He spoke of Aegon’s dream. Passed from king to heir, the Song of Ice and Fire. The Prince That Was Promised to unite the realm against the cold, a great evil from the North. It was why he conquered the Seven Kingdoms in the first place.”
Alicent hesitated, her mouth opening to say words but nothing escaped. That can’t be right, she heard him. If she was wrong then… “That is not…that can’t be…that would mean…” Alicent tried.
Rhaenyra chuckled again, anger seeping in, “It means you were wrong. Aegon was never the heir, and I have given up my birthright because you lied.”
“I didn’t lie,” Alicent protested, her voice shaky. “I was wrong…” she admitted.
“You believed what you wanted to hear,” Rhaenyra accused. “You always wanted Aegon on the throne, you got your wish.”
“That is not- Rhaenyra, please…” Fear and worry started filling her words. She had come here in high hopes and it had all fallen into disarray so quickly. “That’s not fair-”
“It’s not fair?” Rhaenyra echoed, loudly. “What’s not fair is that I gave up everything that I have worked for my entire life for your drunk of a son and cunt of a father because you were wrong.”
Alicent wanted to insist otherwise. Her father and the Small Council always intended to challenge the succession, with or without her, but she couldn’t find the words. Her throat closed up and she felt like she was drowning.
Rhaenyra seemed to notice the distress in Alicent’s eyes, the queen realizing the gravity of the mistake she’d made. Her features softened but she did not take back her words.
She looked down at the page still in her hands. The plea that Alicent made for peace, but it was more than that. It was their lives before Otto involved Alicent in his schemes. It was the days they spent in the godswood, the rides in the carriage to and from the Dragonpit, light teasing and soft smiles. It was their love, innocent and burgeoning before it all fell apart.
Rhaenyra held out the page for Alicent to take. “I still have much to do tonight, your grace. It was a pleasure seeing you again.” Her tone was stilted and cold and far too formal.
Alicent mindlessly took the page from her. She nodded and smiled without joy in a performance she’d practiced her entire life. Wordlessly, she took her leave of the princess, and returned to her chambers.
Only then, in privacy, did the queen allow a few tears to fall as she clutched the page tight, believing she had well and truly broken their relationship beyond repair, all by mistake.