Chapter Text
The Faith of the Seven had endured enough.
For centuries, the Targaryens had defied the natural order, twisting bloodlines, scorning the gods, treating sacred law as little more than ash beneath their boots. Uncle to niece, brother to sister, and soon what? Would they bed their dragons next?
Their lust, their arrogance, their fire unchecked, unrepentant. The realm had turned its gaze to the heavens for justice.
And the heavens had answered. Oldtown rose.
At its helm stood Queen Alicent Hightower, alpha, sovereign. The Seven's chosen hand. A tactician whose mind sliced sharper than steel, and whose presence could silence even the boldest lords. No longer just the queen of Oldtown, she was the Voice of the Faith, the fury of the gods made flesh.
"I will see these lands drowned in holy fire," she had declared, eyes aflame beneath her emerald crown, "before I allow another omega dragon to mount a throne built by sin."
Now, she sat upon her high throne, carved from black stone veined with silver, the sigil of the Seven behind her like a halo.
At her side sat her bondmate, Lady Jeyne, cool and elegant, but dangerous. A silent blade sheathed in silk.
The court was packed. Highborn and low, soldiers and septons, alphas, betas, and omegas alike.
The scent of judgment was thick in the air. And at the center of it all, kneeling, chained, was the Princess of Dragonstone. Omega. Targaryen.
Her silver hair was disheveled, her violet eyes fixed on Alicent with a defiance that burned.
But she was trembling. Not from fear, no, the court would have been lucky if it were that simple. She was reacting.
To her.
To Alicent.
The Queen's presence poured through the chamber, tugging at the very instincts that defined them both.
Alicent rose slowly. Each step forward echoed like a drumbeat of fate. "You kneel before the gods, little dragon," she said, her voice low and lethal. "And before their chosen. But even now, I see it in you how you cling to your fire. As if it could shield you from judgment."
A pause. A smile, dark and knowing. "But fire burns hottest just before it dies."
"You will not get away with this," Rhaenyra rasped, her voice cracked with pain and fury. "My uncle will come. He will come with fire to burn this forsaken city to ash."
A murmur passed through the hall, then laughter. Cruel and cold. It rippled like a wave through the gathered nobility and septons, echoing off ancient stone.
Alicent tilted her head, her lips curling with delight. "Your uncle…" she mused. "Or is it your husband? I confess, with your kind, the lines blurred. But it hardly matters now, does it?"
She stepped down from her throne.
"Daemon Targaryen is dead."
The chamber hushed. "Killed in the skies above Blackcrown. Struck from the heavens by scorpions. His dragon burned first. He followed after. There was no glory in it. No honor. Just fire and bone and a scream swallowed by the wind."
Rhaenyra's eyes widened, her breath caught. Her lips trembled. "You lie," she whispered, horror twisting her face.
But Alicent only shook her head, a cruel smirk pulling at her mouth. "King's Landing has fallen. The Red Keep is ash. The dragons are gone. And you...you, little relic were the last. You came here, thinking you would conquer Oldtown. And now?" A quiet chuckle escaped her. "Now you kneel."
A moment passed. No one moved. "Guards." Alicent's voice rang out.
Rhaenyra flinched. "Wait-no-please-" she began to protest, her voice breaking. "Please don't-don't do this!"
But with a simple flick of Alicent’s wrist, it was over. The guards seized her, iron fists on her arms. She struggled, wild-eyed and screaming, but her strength was spent.
“Take her to the dungeons,” Alicent ordered. “Let her have time to reflect. A dragon in a cage. Poetic, don’t you think?”
And as Rhaenyra was dragged across the stone, sobbing, Alicent returned to her throne, calm and victorious.
The Seven had judged. And their flame now wore a crown.
~
Three days after the princess was caged, Alicent heard the news.
“She’s entered her heat,” Gwayne informed her quietly, his tone strained. “The maester believes it was triggered by stress.”
Alicent, ever sharp-edged and cold, responded without pause. “Well, find an alpha to deal with it. I doubt it would be difficult. there are plenty who would volunteer. And I don’t imagine she’d protest, not with how fond she is of bearing bastards.”
Gwayne looked at his sister, and for a moment, he didn’t recognize her.
The warmth that once softened her features had been replaced with something steel-cold and ruthless.
“Alicent… my queen,” he said carefully, “you can’t mean that. The guards said she’s suffering. The dungeons are no place for an omega in heat.”
“What would you have me do?” she asked, eyes tired, voice flat.
“Give her proper chambers. Nothing lavish. Just enough to get her through this with some shred of dignity. And assign her beta guards. If she continues to scent like this, the alphas will come knocking, if not kicking down the door.”
A long pause. Then “Fine,” Alicent said, voice clipped.
~
That night, sleep refused to come.
People might call her cruel. Perhaps they weren’t wrong. But being cruel didn’t mean she was heartless.
She told herself she only meant to check. Just ask the guards how the omega was faring. Nothing more.
But the moment she reached the door of Rhaenyra’s chamber, the scent hit her. Sweet, and aching. Desperation clung to the air, and something primal stirred in Alicent’s chest.
"Open the door," she ordered.
Inside, the room was soaked in shadow and scent. And in the center of the bed lay Rhaenyra Targaryen. Naked, glistening with sweat, legs parted and fingers buried between them.
Her hair spilled like molten silver around her, her body arching as she moaned softly, unaware that anyone watched.
Alicent didn’t speak. She didn’t move. She simply stood there, watching the omega tremble and writhe under the weight of her own biology.
Then Rhaenyra stilled. Her nose twitched. She turned her head slowly, eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown wide. She had scented her. “Alicent,” she breathed. No title. No insult. Just that name. And then “Please.”
The desperation in her voice was a crack in the air. She moved from the bed slowly, swaying, then fell to her knees. Crawled.
Her body was a sin of curves and heat and pleading eyes, and when she reached Alicent, her hands went immediately to her skirts.
“I can smell it,” Rhaenyra whispered. “You’re hard.”
Alicent said nothing. But she was. Her cock strained against the confines of her gown, thick and pulsing, hungry.
The omega’s heat sang to her blood.
Rhaenyra pressed her cheek against the fabric. “Let me taste you,” she begged, her lips already parting, tongue flicking out to tease the cloth.
Alicent reached down and brushed her fingers through the silver strands of Rhaenyra’s hair. “Look at you,” she said with a smirk. “Whoring yourself for the same alpha who put you in chains.”
“I don’t care,” Rhaenyra whispered. “Just… please.”
The wet spot at Alicent’s crotch was growing. her cock twitching with need. Rhaenyra was pawing at her, mouth open, eyes dazed.
She looked ruined. Beautifully, perfectly ruined.
Alicent tilted her head and considered her.
Her mind turned. Her wife, Jeyne, could never carry a child. No heir. No legacy. But this? This trembling omega on her knees, begging with eyes full of fire and surrender?
She was desirable, desperate and breedable She could give Alicent a dynasty.
“You like carrying bastards, don’t you?” she murmured, voice low. “Maybe that’s all you’re meant for. A perfect little breeding bitch.”
Rhaenyra’s lips trembled around a moan, her thighs pressing together as slick dripped down the inside of her legs.
“Get back on the bed,” she ordered.“I’ve decided what to do with you.”
Rhaenyra obeyed without question. She rose to shaky feet, her thighs slick and trembling, and climbed back onto the bed.
Every movement was a siren’s call. inviting, submissive, and yet defiant in its beauty. She positioned herself on all fours, head down, ass high, her heat-slick cunt glistening in the candlelight.
Alicent stood at the edge of the bed, still fully clothed, watching. “You should hate me,” she said, almost idly, as she unfastened the front of her gown.
“But look at you. Wet and wanting for the woman who locked you away, pathetic.” Her cock sprang free. Long, flushed, and hard.
Rhaenyra’s breath caught at the sight of it. She turned her head, eyes dark with hunger. “I don’t care,” she whispered. “I need you.”
Alicent climbed onto the bed with the grace of a queen and the hunger of a predator. She positioned herself behind Rhaenyra, one hand on her hip, the other dragging slowly between her slick folds.
“So eager,” she murmured, sliding her fingers through the wet heat. “You’re dripping for me.”
Rhaenyra moaned, pressing her hips back, seeking more.
“You want to be filled?” Alicent asked, voice sharp and taunting. “You want my cock inside you while you cry into the sheets?”
“Yes,” Rhaenyra gasped. “Please, gods, please, just do it.”
Alicent leaned forward, lips brushing Rhaenyra’s ear. “You’ll take every inch,” she said. “You’ll take it like the little breeding bitch you are. And when I’m done, you’ll be dripping with my seed.”
And then she pushed in. Slowly, achingly. letting the stretch burn, letting Rhaenyra feel the shape of her cock as it claimed her inch by inch.
Rhaenyra let out a strangled cry, head dropping to the bed, fingers gripping the sheets.
“So big.” Rhaenyra moaned.
Alicent gripped her hips harder, seating herself fully with one sharp thrust. “There,” she growled. “You feel that? That’s mine.”
Rhaenyra sobbed, caught between pain and pleasure. “Yes, yes more, please don’t stop.”
Alicent pulled back, then slammed forward again, her thrusts deep, and punishing. The sound of skin on skin echoed in the chamber, mixing with Rhaenyra’s cries and the low, guttural groans Alicent couldn't hold back.
“You’ll carry my babe,” Alicent snarled between thrusts. “You’ll swell with my child. more bastards, my blood.”
Rhaenyra shattered beneath her, her body convulsing around Alicent’s cock as she came with a scream, slick gushing around them.
But Alicent wasn’t done. She gripped Rhaenyra tighter, hips slamming harder now.
“You’ll take all of it,” she whispered. “You’ll be mine.” And when she finally came. Deep, hard, burying her cock to the hilt she groaned Rhaenyra’s name, spilling everything into her.
Claiming her.
Breeding her.
Rhaenyra lay trembling beneath her, her body marked with sweat, and the warmth of being thoroughly filled.
Her breath came in shallow gasps, her thighs slick and parted, her pride scattered somewhere between the silk sheets and the altar Alicent had made of her body.
Alicent didn’t move for a moment. She stayed inside her, cock still pulsing with the aftershocks, her hands gripping Rhaenyra’s hips like they belonged to her now.
Then she leaned forward, her lips brushing the shell of Rhaenyra’s ear. “You’ll give me seven children.”
Rhaenyra shuddered at the words, eyelids fluttering.
“One for each god in the Faith,” Alicent continued. “One for the Father, one for the Mother. One for the Warrior. The Smith, the Maiden, the Crone…” She paused, then pressed a kiss to Rhaenyra’s temple.
“And the Stranger. For the death of your pride.”
A broken sound escaped Rhaenyra’s throat, but she didn’t pull away. Couldn’t. She was still spread open, claimed and trembling.
“I’ll raise them in the light of the Seven,” Alicent whispered, her tone dark and holy. “They will be… mine. Born of your fire. Shaped by my faith.”
She pulled back slowly, letting her cock slide free, watching her seed leak from between Rhaenyra’s thighs with satisfaction.
“Seven children. Seven reasons you will never be free of me.”