Chapter Text
As the massive towers of Valyria grew ever larger in her vision, Alicent shivered. All her life she had heard terrible tales of this place and those who ruled over it. Their foul blood magic, their strange gods, and their invincible dragons all featured prominently in the stories told to frighten children back in Oldtown. So too did their bizarre marriage customs, which were especially relevant to the situation the omega now found herself in. After being defeated by Valyria in war, the kingdoms of Westeros had become tributaries of the Freehold, forced to send gold, grain, and highborn omegas to their overlords, which was why Alicent Hightower was currently on a ship sailing into the harbor of their capital, destined for marriage to an alpha about whom she had heard nothing but a name.
For all she knew, Rhaenyra Targaeryn might be a hideous old crone, wed to several omegas already and greedy for young flesh; among their many strange customs, the Valyrians allowed an alpha to take more than one mate, as well as permitting them to marry omegas regardless of sex. All of it was contrary to the Faith of the Seven, abominable and wrong in the eyes of the Gods. And yet that same Faith also told Alicent it was her duty to obey her father, and he had commanded her to not only accept this marriage but to make a success of it, in the hopes of currying favor with her new mate’s powerful house of dragon-lords.
“Pardon me, my lady, but you had best get dressed. We’ll be there soon.”
The voice of one of her maids, Elyssa, snapped Alicent out of her own head. “Yes, I suppose we will,” she agreed, turning away from the ship’s railing and making her way for the hold. Surely the Targaryens would have sent someone to greet her and she needed to look her best. She was in enough trouble already without making a bad first impression.
****
Perhaps an hour later the ship laid anchor and Alicent was walking down the gangplank, freshly attired in an elaborate gown of red velvet trimmed with cloth of gold, her hair carefully done up by her maids. Before her marched a pair of soldiers wearing the colors of House Hightower, but their presence was entirely ceremonial. Here, in the heart of Valaryian power, there was nothing they nor anyone else could do to protect her from her fate.
There were an array of guards and servants waiting for her on the dock, but it was obvious who was in charge of them. At the center of their party stood a tall man with the long, pale hair that highborn Valyrians were famous for, dressed all in black and reeking of alpha scent. There was a dangerous look in his eyes as well, along with a sword hanging at his side, and Alicent felt her heart drop into her stomach.
This can’t be Rhaenyra, can it? I thought it was a woman’s name.
“You must be Alicent Hightower,” the alpha said, walking up to meet her as her feet touched solid earth for the first time in weeks.
“I am,” she said, managing a curtsy through her nervousness. “May I ask who I have the privilege of addressing?”
The alpha smiled and there was something wicked in the expression. “Prince Daemon of House Targaryen.”
“Are you my betrothed?” she asked cautiously, hoping that wasn’t the case. The man was handsome, true, but something about him scared her, and besides, there was a reason her father had selected her for this match. “I was told I would be marrying a Rhaenyra Targaryen.”
He seemed to notice her discomfort but it made him laugh. “Never fear, girl. The princess is busy at the moment, so I thought I’d come and see the tribute the Hightowers have sent her.” He looked Alicent up and down with a cool eye that made her feel exposed even beneath her layers of clothing. “You’re pretty enough, I suppose, depending on one’s tastes.”
Uncertain of how to respond to that, she tried politeness. “I’m honored to be marrying her, my prince.”
“You should be,” he agreed. “You are betrothed to the blood of the dragon. Wedding Rhaenyra is quite a step up for some omega slut from Oldtown.”
In spite of her fear, some sliver of pride made Alicent protest, “I am still a maiden, your Grace. I swear it.”
He only laughed at her defiance. “Well then, it seems my niece will have to break you in. That should be amusing. I doubt very much that a girl from the land of the septons knows what she’s getting into with a Valyrian alpha.”
Daemon was right about that much, leaving Alicent little choice but to fall silent as she followed him across the docks. The only thing she could take comfort in was his use of the word “niece;” the prince was in the prime of life, so hopefully his niece was close to her own age.
He stopped in front of a pair of horses saddled nearby, a large, dark stallion for him and a smaller, white mare for her. “I trust you know how ride.”
“I will admit I am more used to traveling by carriage. But, yes, I can.”
He smirked. “Good. A horse is hardly the most challenging thing you’ll have to mount here in Valyria.”
On that unsettling note, they set off together through the vast city. In spite of her agitated state, Alicent couldn’t help but be impressed. Oldtown was regarded as the greatest city in Westeros but it paled next to Valyria. Around her she could see at least a dozen spires taller than the Hightower, while everywhere they rode, there stood grand monuments to the Freehold’s victories, statues and columns adorned with the gold and silver they had stripped from the treasuries of their vanquished enemies.
And of course, there were the dragons. Before today, Alicent had only ever seen one once, when she was a girl: a huge, red beast ridden by the Valyrian emissary when he came to Oldtown to deliver the Freehold’s terms after the war. Now she counted at least eight different dragons, of different sizes and colors, flying far overhead. Nor was it any special occasion. The men and women she rode past scarcely seemed to take note of them, so routine was their presence, even as they left Alicent in awe.
At last they stopped at the foot of one of the great spires, a soaring tower of red stone flying banners bearing the same image of a three-headed dragon that Daemon had on his surcoat. “Here we are,” the prince declared as the grooms rushed out to take their horses. Once he’d dismounted, he turned to walk away, but not before looking back at her with a bemused smile. “You know, I think I recall meeting your father when Oldtown surrendered to us, Lady Alicent. He was quite the pious cunt, which makes it rather amusing that he should sacrifice his own daughter to the dragon.”
****
“Here you are, my lady,” the old woman declared as she opened the door. “They’re only temporary quarters of course, but they should be comfortable enough until the wedding.”
“Thank you,” Alicent huffed. Though her new rooms were only halfway up the great tower, her legs were aching already and her breath was short from the climb. “I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
“I’ll leave you to get settled then,” the servant told her before departing. “Someone will be along with your baggage in a little while.”
Alone at last, Alicent took a look around. For the most part the rooms seemed nice, more than large enough with one person with comfortable looking furnishings and even some food and drink laid out. But then she noticed the tapestries. On several of the walls were long, woven hangings, gorgeously crafted if not for what they depicted…
Rather than containing scenes of nature or religious symbols, Alicent found pictures of men and women, alphas, betas, and omegas, coupling in more positions and combinations than she had ever imagined, using not just their privy parts but mouths, hands, and even anuses to pleasure one another. Even more shockingly, in some of the scenes, they were joined by dragons, the beasts laying with men and women alike. Was that something the Targaryens did, she wondered with a shock. Was that something she would be expected to do? How was such a thing even possible?
In a panic, Alicent retreated out onto the balcony. Here, at least, she didn’t have to look at the obscene images, instead enjoying a view of the great city stretched out below her. Still, it was easier to escape the pictures than the fears they provoked. Nor had Prince Daemon done anything to help in that regard, making it seem as if Alicent would soon be initiated into all manner of depravity by her new wife. It was enough to make a pious omega doubt all she had been told about how the Gods rewarded virtue and punished sin, given that they had allowed these Valyrians to rule the greatest empire on earth.
Lost in such dark thoughts, she didn't notice the door to her chambers opening once more until a friendly voice called out, “Lady Alicent?”
The omega spun around, only to find herself starring not at a servant with her bags but perhaps the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. The newcomer was slim, with silver hair tied back in a long braid and stunning blue eyes that stood out even in a very pretty face. She was clad in a black riding dress fringed with red and in spite of her short stature, no taller than Alicent herself, she gave off an unmistakably potent alpha scent.
“I’m out here,” she called from the balcony before asking, “Who might you be?”
Her heart almost stopped when she heard the reply. “Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”
This is my intended? In spite of all her fears, her inner omega couldn’t help but thrill at the revelation. She did her best to calm it down. It was nice that Rhaenyra was so attractive but she was also a Targaryen, prone to the Gods only knew what perversions.
Still, it cost Alicent nothing to be courteous. Putting a smile on her face, she approached the alpha and bowed. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my princess.”
Rhaenyra laughed but unlike with Daemon, the sound was not cruel but bright and lively. “There’s no need to be so formal. We're going to be married, remember?”
“I’m sorry, your Grace, that is Rhaenyra, I’m sorry, Rhaenyra,” she babbled, mortifying herself with her lack of composure, but the princess didn’t seem to mind.
“Well aren’t you adorable, Alicent,” she declared, walking up close enough that her scent, rich and hot like smoke on a summer day, could be more easily savored. “I apologize for not meeting you at the docks but we didn’t know you’d be arriving today and I was with my father touring some of our estates on the other side of the mountains.”
“It’s all right. Your uncle accompanied me back here.”
Rhaenyra laughed once more. “Uncle Daemon? I hope he didn’t scare you too badly.”
“No, of course not,” she lied.
“That’s good. He’s a lot of fun, but he can be a bit frightening if you don’t know him.” She paused, biting her lip. “Or sometimes if you do, I guess. Anyway, how do you like the rooms? I know they’re just for a few days, but still, if there’s anything wrong, I’ll have them fix it.”
“They’re very nice,” she said, and then decided to dare a small question. “The tapestries, though, are a bit unusual. I’ve never seen anything like them before.”
Alicent wasn't sure if she should be relieved or concerned when Rhaenyra chuckled. “Are you shocked? Well, I’ve heard that people are a bit prudish in Oldtown. I wouldn’t worry about them.”
“If you say so,” Alicent replied, though she didn't know what that meant. It felt as if she was wandering about in a dark, unfamiliar room, constantly bumping into things and unsure of what they even were.
Perhaps sensing her nervousness, Rhaenyra motioned in the direction of a nearby sofa. “Come on. Let’s sit and have a glass of wine. You look like you could use it.”
Not able to argue with that, Alicent took a seat while the princess poured them two glasses from a nearby flagon. It wasn’t quite like any flavor she’d tasted before, sweet and yet with a potent kick that made her suck in a breath as she swallowed it down.
“Are you all right?” Rhaenyra asked, sounding genuinely concerned. “It seems they left you a strong vintage.”
“So I see,” Alicent agreed.
Properly warned, she enjoyed her next sip more and she and Rhaenyra drank quietly for a minute before the princess turned to her. “It’s a bit sudden, isn’t it? The wedding and all, I mean. Not that I blame you for that, of course. My father said it was time I got married and when the local omegas he suggested didn’t interest me, he sent to our vassals for a bride.” She looked Alicent over, seeming to approve of what she saw, at least based on the light in those lovely eyes. “And here you are.”
Alicent smiled weakly. “It’s strange for me too. I didn’t know more than your name until today and now we’re about to wed.”
“Only if you want to.” Rhaenyra reached across the sofa and took the omega’s hands in her own. The contact sent a thrill through Alicent, the calloused palms making her skin tingle in spite of her anxieties. “Look, Alicent, being mated to a miserable omega doesn’t do anything for me. So tell me now if you don’t want to go through with it and I’ll have my father send you back to Oldtown.”
“That’s possible?” she asked tentatively. Just seconds earlier, her fate had seemed inescapable and now she was being offered a way out.
“He won’t like it, but he won’t actually force me to marry someone if I insist.”
The good, godly girl in Alicent wanted to say yes, to run as far away from this den of sin and sorcery as she could manage. But it wasn’t so simple. If she had Rhaenyra send her home, her father would be furious. She would soon be married off to someone else, and she wouldn’t like that at all. For there was that shameful secret, the one she couldn’t admit to anyone: male alphas didn’t interest her in the least, only female ones.
Her father probably suspected something, especially after her mother had caught her playing kissing games with some of the other girls in the Hightower. Alicent had tried to pass it off as childish curiosity, but he had never looked at her in quite the same way afterward. Maybe that was why he had selected her as his tribute. It might have been a strange kindness or perhaps an admission that she was well-suited for this match. Either way, though, his indulgence would only extend so far. If this match failed, he would find her another one and, back in Westeros, that would have to be a man.
And then there was Rhaenyra. Not only was she gorgeous, she had actually asked if Alicent wanted this. It was more than her father had done, more than the next man he picked would probably offer her either. It might just make sense for Alicent to stay with her, at least if she could get the answer to one question first. Her voice shaking, she asked, “If we marry, I won’t have to mate with a dragon, will I?”
In spite of the tension in the air, Rhaenyra laughed hard, clearly thinking her the most absurd creature in all the world. “Gods no, Alicent. I don’t even think dragons really have those parts. It’s just a tapestry.”
“Oh, all right then,” she said, letting herself breath freely, at least a little more so than before. “That is a relief.” She exhaled again, making ready to say the words that would shape the rest of her life. “Then I think, if it pleases you, I will stay.”
Rhaenyra smiled warmly. “It does please me.”
And there it was. She was going to marry Rhaenyra Targaryen, and if that thought was causing sticky warmth to pool between her legs, Alicent could hardly be blamed. After all, she was just doing her duty, wasn’t she?