Chapter Text
Three Weeks Later
Of all her children, Helaena was the one Rhaenyra understood the least, a sentiment that she knew was shared by her wife. Ever since she was a babe, their daughter had been rather . . . touched. Not simple-minded, by any means, but often distracted by her own thoughts and entirely unaware of the world around her. She seemed to spend more time in her own head than any other child that Rhaenyra had ever met. Helaena was a sweet girl, to be sure, gentle and kind, but still rather strange.
Then there was her inability to properly look people in the eyes when speaking to them and her skittishness with physical contact. Helaena’s discomfort with touch had been evident almost from the moment that she was born. Rhaenyra well-remembered how, as a babe, Helaena would cry and wail whenever Alicent held her, something that still pained her wife to this day. Once Helaena had grown old enough to actively avoid touch, she’d done so without fail—shying away from hands seeking to pat her cheek or stroke her hair, fleeing from hugs regardless of who offered them, and never sitting closer to anyone than was strictly necessary.
Of all their daughter’s peculiarities, Rhaenyra knew that it was her fascination with insects that Alicent found most distressing. Her wife had spent years attempting to coax their daughter to shift her attention to nigh anything else, only ceding the fight when it became abundantly clear that she would not prevail.
For Rhaenyra, it was the way that Helaena would mumble and mutter to herself that she had always found most troubling. Some children simply enjoyed insects. Some never learned the art of proper eye contact. And many a maiden was shy to be touched. But the muttering . . . a sign of madness, some might say. And while she did not think her daughter mad, she could not help but be troubled.
Troubled, but also curious.
Sometimes, the words her daughter spoke, while puzzling, seemed almost like warnings. Such as the day of the Flea Bottom riot this past spring, when Helaena had clung to Alicent’s skirts—something she never did—and begged her not to leave the Keep. Rhaenyra had begun to wonder, then, if perhaps there was more to her daughter’s ramblings than mere absentmindedness and peculiarity. Theirs was the blood of Daenys the Dreamer, after all.
So when Helaena had come to her this morning with tales of tongueless fireflies and burning rivers and melting towers, she’d listened. She hadn’t understood what her daughter was trying to tell her, but she’d listened. And when Helaena had begun to weep over Rhaenyra’s lack of comprehension, she’d resisted the instinctive urge to gather her sweet girl into her arms and hold her close, instead waiting for her to calm enough so that they might speak sensibly.
Even now, as Rhaenyra searched the training yard for Harwin, she did not entirely understand what Helaena’s warning meant, but she knew that it was a warning. And a dire one, at that. Her daughter had managed to make clear enough that Harwin and his father must remain here in King’s Landing. For their own safety.
She did not know what fate awaited Harwin outside the city gates, but she knew that she did not wish for him to meet it.
Over the years, Harwin Strong had become a dear friend, in no small part because of how well he got on with her sons, who all adored him. Laenor sometimes even quipped that Jace and Luke secretly wished it was Harwin who had sired them. Alicent, whenever she heard such talk, would tsk at Laenor and scold him for saying such things even in jest. Rhaenyra always supported her wife’s position, for she knew that Alicent was particularly sensitive to any whispers and rumors that might call their Velaryon sons’ legitimacy into question.
Laenor’s preferences had caused many at court to openly speculate about whether he was even capable of siring children on her. Dark rumors had swirled around the Red Keep the first time that she’d announced she was with child. Vile, disgusting insinuations that had made Alicent bristle, had nearly driven Laenor and Joffrey to challenge men to duels on three separate occasions, and had tempted Rhaenyra to inform the gossips of just how exactly Laenor had gotten her with child simply for the satisfaction of seeing their shocked horror.
Thankfully, Jace had been born with silvery-white locks and eyes of Valyrian-purple. None who looked upon him could ever doubt that Laenor was his sire. That all three of her sons with Laenor resembled him so strongly was a blessing, though Alicent always insisted that Jace, Luke, and Vic had Rhaenyra’s eyes, which her wife maintained were a much prettier shade of purple than Laenor’s.
At last, she found Harwin in the middle of a bout with Laenor, the two men demonstrating proper sword techniques to Aegon, Aemond, Daeron, Jace, and Luke. Aegon, as was his way, was leaning on his practice sword and looking rather bored, while Aemond was watching with rapt attention. Jace, who had decided some moons ago that he wished to be just like Aegon, was attempting to feign boredom, but the excited gleam in his eyes made a lie of his efforts. Daeron was stealthily trying to steal Aegon’s practice sword from him, which would likely result in Aegon toppling over onto the ground. Luke was plainly just pleased to be spending time with his brothers.
While a part of her knew that she should remain where she was—out of the way and not distracting her boys—until Harwin finished his bout, a larger part had been missing her sons.
Motioning for her guards to remain where they were, she approached her boys on silent feet. As soon as she was within striking distance, she snatched Luke up and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. He squealed loudly, causing his brothers and half of the yard to whip around in their direction.
Her other sons rolled their eyes at her antics, while the men of the yard either did the same or smiled indulgently. Alicent would say that her display was undignified, but Rhaenyra was of the opinion that she was entitled to a few undignified moments every once in a while. At least one per moon, she should think. Although, I suppose in Ali’s mind, I’ve already had my undignified moment for this moon.
Three weeks later, and her darling wife was still giving her stern looks of warning every time they attended a Small Council meeting.
As if that would somehow make her less likely to tease . . .
Setting Luke back down on his feet, Rhaenyra gave his hair an affectionate ruffle, which earned her a wide grin from her sweet boy.
“What brings you to the yard, Sister?” Aegon drawled, leaning on his wooden practice sword.
Rhaenyra resisted the urge to grimace. While she knew well that Aegon calling her “sister” was primarily for appearance’s sake—and partly because the little imp had reached the age where he thought it great fun to purposefully aggravate his mothers—she always disliked the reminder that, in the eyes of the world, Aegon was not truly hers.
She and Alicent had taught all of their children to call her muña, but in the case of Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron, they’d also had to teach them that they could not call her such in the presence of others. While most would not recognize the High Valyrian word for “mother,” neither she nor Alicent wished to risk one of their children making a mistake in front of someone who did know the language.
“I’m actually here to speak with Ser Harwin.” Rhaenyra smiled as Jace and Daeron both sidled up to her in the way that she recognized as them desiring a hug but thinking themselves too old to initiate it. She wrapped one arm around Jace’s shoulders and the other around Daeron’s, giving them each a loving squeeze.
She half-hoped that Aemond might approach her as well, but he only smiled at her. It was a warm and affectionate smile, to be sure, but of all their children, Aemond was the most like Alicent had been in their youth. Quiet, serious, dutiful, and a little bit shy, though he made more of an effort to conceal his shyness on account of being a boy. Behind closed doors and away from the prying eyes of the court, Aemond was a much more openly affectionate child.
Harwin jogged over to them, smelling of exertion and with sweat glistening on his brow. He stopped in front of her, bowing low and kissing the back of her hand when she offered it. “Princess, to what do we owe the honor?”
“I would speak with you, Ser.” She gently shooed her sons back towards Laenor and their lessons before motioning for Harwin to walk with her. As they left the yard, she could feel eyes upon them, but she paid them no mind. Who she chose to befriend was no one’s business but her own, and Harwin had proven himself a dear and valuable friend on many an occasion, most recently being when he’d escorted Alicent safely back to the Red Keep during the Flea Bottom riot.
She waited until they were as alone as possible in one of the less traveled corridors to begin speaking. “I understand that you and your father leave for Harrenhal in two days’ time.”
Harwin nodded, expression slightly confused. “Yes. Father wishes for me to aid him in settling a few local disputes, then we’re traveling to Raventree Hall to sort out the latest Blackwood and Bracken quarrel.”
“Hmm.” Her lips pursed. She’d spent much of the morning trying to decide how exactly to broach this issue. For all that Harwin loved her children, she could not very well say to him outright that he could not leave King’s Landing because Helaena had had a vision. “I do not think it wise for you to accompany your father to the Riverlands at this time.” If she could, she would dissuade Lyonel from leaving as well, though she knew that she had little hope of actually succeeding.
Harwin frowned slightly. “Why?”
“There has been unrest in the city of late.” That was true enough. “Now is not the time for the Commander of the City Watch to be deserting his post.”
“My captains—”
“Are not you.” She stopped and turned to face him. “It was not so long ago that we had a riot in Flea Bottom. I’ve been told that similar rumblings are beginning again, and I would not leave our gold cloaks without a leader, should they be called upon to quell another disturbance.”
Harwin’s expression softened, and she knew that it was because he now assumed her words were born from a place of worry for Alicent’s safety, which was just as well. “Princess, I know that the riot gave you a fright, but Queen Alicent returned unharmed. If your concern is so great, surely it would be simpler to have her remain in the Keep until my father and I return.”
Rhaenyra set her jaw. “I’ll not make the queen a prisoner in this castle.”
“But you would make me a prisoner in this city?” He cocked his head slightly, sounding more confused than angry. “Princess.” He paused. “Rhaenyra, is something the matter? You do not seem quite yourself.”
And perhaps she was not. After all, her actions were being entirely compelled by Helaena’s riddles, which no one else ever paid heed to, having long ago concluded that they were no more than the strange ramblings of a strange girl. Even her own father, who himself believed so fervently in the dragon dreams, had never once even considered that Helaena might be a dreamer.
Of course, in order to have such a consideration, he would need to actually spend time with her. She quickly set aside the uncharitable thought in favor of focusing on Harwin. “I wish that I could explain more, Harwin, but I cannot.” Not yet, at least. “So I am asking you, as your friend, please remain here in King’s Landing.”
And Harwin—gentle, amiable, and loyal Harwin—looked truly pained as he shook his head. “I am sorry, Rhaenyra, but my father has ordered me to accompany him. I cannot simply disobey him without good reason.”
She’d feared as much. With an internal sigh, she squared her shoulders, holding his gaze with her own. “Very well then. I command you. As your princess and the heir to the throne, you are commanded to remain in King’s Landing at your post.”
He stared at her for a long moment, a myriad of emotions swiftly playing across his face—confusion and surprise being the most prominent—but at last, he bowed low at the waist. “As My Princess commands.”
∞
When Alicent entered her bedchamber that evening, she was pleased to find Rhaenyra already waiting for her. Good. That meant they could speak at once. Striding over to her wife, she gave her lips a swift peck before turning around and offering her back so that Rhaenyra could begin unlacing her for bed. She smiled to herself at the familiar feeling of nimble fingers easily loosening the laces that held her dress in place. “So, care to tell me what exactly happened with Ser Harwin this afternoon?”
Rhaenyra sighed behind her. “Are your spies truly so skilled that they overhear even the most private of conversations, My Love?”
“My spies? No,” she chuckled. “Our sons, however, were quite eager to tell me all about you stealing their favorite instructor away for a ‘private conversation.’” Years ago, when she was younger and less secure in her relationship with Rhaenyra, she might have been jealous, might have even allowed a hint of suspicion to cloud her mind. But she knew her wife, knew that she was loyal to her, and her alone. Rhaenyra may have bedded Laenor for duty, and she may love Harwin in her own way—as the brother she’d never had—but she’d only ever offered her heart to Alicent.
Another sigh, this one slightly exasperated. “I should have known.”
“You should have,” Alicent agreed. While the network of servants that she’d created over the years to keep herself apprised of the goings on within the Red Keep was as effective as it was expansive, their sons were horrid tattles and always eager to report their muña’s movements to her.
Feeling the last of the laces come loose, Alicent slipped out of her gown and allowed it to pool on the floor, smiling to herself when she heard her wife’s breath hitch slightly at the sight of her in only her shift and smallclothes. Even after ten years together, Rhaenyra always insisted that Alicent was as desirable now as she had been when they were young. And Alicent would be lying if she said that those words did not please her.
She darted away when she felt her wife’s warm hand on her back, strolling over to her wardrobe to fetch a sleeping gown. “What did you need to discuss with Ser Harwin?” That Rhaenyra did not respond at once gave her pause, and Alicent glanced over at her worriedly. “Nyra?”
Rhaenyra rubbed her face with her hands. “I am trying to decide how best to explain myself without you thinking me mad.”
Misliking the agitation that she could hear rising in her sweet wife’s voice, Alicent swiftly returned to her side and ushered over to the settee. Once they were seated beside each other, she took Rhaenyra’s hands in hers and began rubbing soothing circles on the backs with her thumbs. “You know that you can tell me anything, Ābrazȳrys.”
A smile curled Rhaenyra’s lips at hearing Alicent speak her mother tongue—as was always the case—and she relaxed visibly. “I asked Harwin not to accompany his father back to Harrenhal, and when he refused,” she hesitated a moment, expression chagrinned, “I ordered him to remain here.”
Alicent’s eyebrows drew together in confusion. It was a rare thing for Rhaenyra to use her position in such a way—at least with those she cared for. “Why?”
Once more, Rhaenyra hesitated a moment before replying, voice soft, “Because I believe that something terrible awaits him outside of the city. Him and Lord Strong both, but I could not order Lyonel to remain, although I did attempt to do so.”
“Why?” she repeated, for her wife’s explanation was hardly any explanation at all.
“Helaena. I . . . I believe that she may be a dragon dreamer. And she came to me earlier today with what I believe was a warning.”
Alicent couldn’t help but stare at her wife incredulously. While she adored their daughter, everyone knew that Helaena’s ramblings were only that: ramblings. Their daughter was a kind and gentle soul, to be sure, and she understood indulging her by listening whenever she rattled off her riddles, but to actually act upon one? “I don’t understand.”
Rhaenyra sighed, leaning against her, and Alicent instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Do you remember when I told you about the Conqueror’s dream? And how some with the Blood of the Dragon have a gift for prophecy?”
She remembered. At the time—she must admit—she’d been rather skeptical. What Rhaenyra had been saying had reminded her very much of Viserys’ drunken ramblings during Aegon’s second nameday. The king’s slurred speech about his vivid dreams of having a son born wearing the Conqueror’s crown had sounded to her like no more than the nonsensical mutterings of a drunkard, so she had dismissed them as such.
But Rhaenyra had not been drunk when she’d told her about Aegon’s dream, and Alicent knew that her wife was not one to be easily taken in by children’s stories.
So she had listened and tried to understand.
While a part of her still remained incredulous about Targaryen prophets, she could admit that there must be at least some truth to it. Everyone knew that it was Daenys the Dreamer who had saved House Targaryen from the Doom, and Daenys’ blood had been passed down to the first Aegon and all of the Targaryens who had come after him.
But to think that Helaena—starry-eyed Helaena, who was never so happy as when she had some horrifying insect in her hands—was a dreamer the likes of Daenys and the Conqueror? It strained belief.
And yet . . . as Rhaenyra explained what had happened that morning, explained how frantic their daughter had been, how heartbroken when Rhaenyra had not understood, how pleased when Rhaenyra had tried to understood, Alicent could at the very least see why her wife had been willing to listen. She still wasn’t certain that it made sense to order Ser Harwin to remain in King’s Landing, but she respected her wife’s decision, and there was ultimately no harm in it.
When she said as much to Rhaenyra, her wife smiled with relief and kissed her soundly.
∞∞
Perhaps it was unfair of Rhaenyra to have assumed that Alicent would be disinclined to believe her about Helaena’s warning. But in her defense, her wife had always evinced a certain amount of skepticism about dragon dreams. Rhaenyra did not blame her, of course. For all that she’d grown up in King’s Landing, Alicent was still a daughter of Oldtown, still tied to the maesters and their silly notions and incredulities in ways that Rhaenyra would never be able to truly understand.
So to say that she was pleased to have her wife’s support in her decision to heed Helaena’s warning would be a gross understatement.
She was ecstatic. And relieved.
And she intended to reward her darling Alicent for her faith in her and their daughter.
Besides, it had been nearly two days since she’d last properly fucked her wife, since she’d last been gifted with the enthralling sight of her Sweet Alicent in the throes of passion.
Far too long for her liking.
And oh, what a vision her lovely wife was.
Auburn curls splayed out on the pillows, pretty brown eyes squeezed shut, full lips slightly parted as she gasped and whimpered, face beautifully scrunched as waves of pleasure wracked her body. The way her wife’s breasts heaved as she fought for breath was so enthralling, the pink stiffness of her nipples so enticing. And the glistening wetness of her cunt—displayed so exquisitely before her as Alicent spread her legs wide in a silent plea—called to her as nothing else could.
“Please, My Love,” Alicent whined, her desperation music to Rhaenyra’s ears. “I need you to touch me.”
Smiling impishly, Rhaenyra reached out and cupped Alicent’s perfect breasts, caressing and teasing them in the way that she knew her wife both adored and detested. Her Sweet Alicent’s breasts had always been sensitive, but after Daeron, Rhaenyra had discovered that it was possible for her wife to reach her peak simply from having her breasts and nipples played with.
But Alicent considered such peaks inferior to those Rhaenyra could give her by licking her cunt or stroking her clit.
“Nyra,” Alicent huffed, opening her eyes to glare up at her. “I need you to touch me properly.”
“Hmm. I’m not sure you’ll be able to find your release if I only touch you properly, Ali.” Rhaenyra pinched Alicent’s left nipple while gently rolling the other one between her fingers.
Alicent’s responding moan went straight to Rhaenyra’s own cunt, making her clench around nothing and drip even more than she already was. Her clit was throbbing and begging for attention, begging for a touch of any kind. And part of her yearned to slide lower on Alicent’s body, to straddle her wife’s thigh and rut against it until she reached her own peak. She’d done so many times before—when particularly desperate—and she knew that Alicent enjoyed seeing such desperation from her, knew that her wife relished feeling the evidence of Rhaenyra’s pleasure coating her thigh afterwards.
But no. Not yet. Alicent first.
Her wife’s pleasure would always come first.
Because the gods know no one else has ever cared for her pleasure.
Rhaenyra swiftly shoved the thought aside, refocusing on her wife’s pleading eyes. She ought to take mercy on her and give her what she wanted. This was meant to be a reward, after all. Oh, but Alicent’s lips were far too tempting. One kiss first, she promised herself. Then I’ll give her what she needs.
Leaning down, she captured her wife’s sweet lips, savoring her taste and drinking in her soft whimpers. Even after all these years, Alicent’s kisses could still make her head spin in the most delightful of ways. She smiled slightly when she felt slender fingers tangling in her hair and tugging her closer. And her smile widened even further when she felt Alicent’s hips bucking beneath her, her wife’s cunt plainly desperate for attention.
Breaking the kiss, Rhaenyra grinned at the sight of Alicent’s flushed cheeks and nearly black eyes. “I love you,” she murmured.
Alicent practically snarled at her. “Then show me.”
“How, My Love?” Rhaenyra kissed her forehead. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. No more teasing. I promise.”
Some of the irritation drained from her wife then, for they both knew that Rhaenyra would never break a promise to Alicent.
“I need your mouth and your fingers, Nyra.” Alicent squirmed beneath her. “Please, My Love.”
“Anything for you, Ali.” Rhaenyra gave her lips a swift peck before she began kissing her way down Alicent’s body. She gently nipped at her throat, taking care not to leave any marks. The last time she’d done that, Alicent had refused to bed her for almost two weeks. When she reached her wife’s breasts, she captured one nipple between her lips and sucked harshly while she gently plucked at the other one with her fingers.
The dual sensations had Alicent arching up against her, gasping and moaning as her nails raked over Rhaenyra’s back. “Gods, Nyra. Please. Please. Please.”
The slight pain of her wife’s nails clawing at her back made Rhaenyra shudder, and she pressed her thighs together in an attempt to ease the ache between her legs. Seven Hells she was wet.
Switching to Alicent’s other nipple, Rhaenyra rolled her tongue over the pebbled flesh, earning more breathy whimpers. Her free hand slipped down between their bodies and roughly cupped Alicent’s cunt. A firm squeeze coupled with her teeth grazing her wife’s sensitive nipple sent Alicent careening over the edge.
Alicent gasped and moaned beneath her, face twisting with pleasure as shudders wracked her body. “Nyra,” she panted. “Gods. Fuck.”
Rhaenyra continued lavishing attention on Alicent’s breasts, nuzzling and kissing the soft mounds to prolong her wife’s peak as much as possible. How was it that Alicent had such perfect breasts? Firm and plump and so warm and supple. They’d always fit so well in her hands, as if they’d been made for her—and her alone—to hold and caress.
“My Love,” Alicent whimpered, still trembling from the aftershocks, “please. It’s too much.”
Halting at once, Rhaenyra lifted her head and gave her wife’s hip an apologetic squeeze. “I’m sorry, Ali.”
Alicent affectionately stroked her hair in response. “It’s all right, Nyra. Just give me a moment.”
While she waited for her wife’s pleasure to subside, Rhaenyra pressed gentle kisses to her forehead and cheeks, earning soft sighs and happy hums. When she at last felt Alicent still beneath her, she sat up and gently tapped her wife’s hip. “Spread your legs for me, Ali. I still owe you my mouth and fingers.”
Alicent blinked up at her in surprise, but she was quick to obey.
Rhaenyra grinned, reaching up to give her cheek a loving caress. “That’s my good girl,” she cooed, earning a soft whine and an eager roll of Alicent’s hips.
Once settled between her wife’s legs, Rhaenyra inhaled deeply, breathing in the heady scent of her arousal and allowing herself a moment to admire Alicent’s sweet cunt. Her lower lips were puffy and swollen, desperate for her touch, and fresh slick was even now leaking from her entrance. If she peered close enough, she swore that she could see her wife’s inner walls twitching and clenching around nothing, begging for her fingers and tongue. Alicent was drenched in her own desire, her lovely clit fully emerged from beneath its hood and throbbing before Rhaenyra’s eyes.
“Fucking Hells, Ali,” she breathed. “You’re so beautiful.” She kissed the top of her mound, receiving a whine. “So perfect.” She kissed her slick inner thigh, earning a whimper. “So good for me.” Her tongue lightly flicked over Alicent’s clit, causing her wife to spasm and her cunt to clench. “And all mine.” She parted her wife’s soaked folds with her tongue and gave her a long, languid lick.
Alicent wailed above her. “Yes, Nyra, yes! I’m yours. Only yours. Nyra, Nyra, Nyra, please, My Love.”
“Such a good girl,” she mumbled, knowing that even if Alicent couldn’t understand her words, she would still feel them. She lapped eagerly at the wetness covering her wife’s cunt, drinking it down and relishing her unique flavor. While she adored everything about her Sweet Alicent, she would be lying if she said that she didn’t have an especial fondness for the taste of her pleasure. Seven Hells, her wife was better than the finest wines from the Arbor.
Rhaenyra brought her fingers up to gently tease at Alicent’s entrance, smiling when she felt her silken walls flutter in response. Reluctantly raising her head from between her wife’s legs, her breath hitched at the sight of Alicent’s flushed face and wide, desperate eyes. A fresh wave of arousal flooded from Rhaenyra’s cunt, further soaking her inner thighs. The fingers of her free hand sank into the soft flesh of Alicent’s thigh, lest they be tempted to sneak between her own legs to soothe the ever-growing ache.
She brushed a finger over Alicent’s clit, causing her hips to buck and also drawing her wife’s attention to her. “My Love, may I go inside?” She always asked for permission first, before fucking Alicent with her fingers. It had taken years for her wife to feel comfortable having anything inside her other than Rhaenyra’s tongue, and she would sooner hurl herself from the Keep’s highest window than cause her wife discomfort or bring her pain.
She still remembered the first time that she’d tried to slide her fingers into Alicent’s clenching warmth, still remembered the way that Alicent had stiffened almost imperceptibly. Had she not noticed, there was no doubt in her mind that Alicent would have remained soft and pliant beneath her, that she would have allowed Rhaenyra to fuck her cunt without protest or complaint, and that knowledge broke Rhaenyra’s heart.
She’d never tried again after that first time, not until Alicent herself had asked for it.
Now, Alicent nodded eagerly, hips bucking against her hand. “Please, Nyra. I want to feel you inside me.”
As she carefully worked one finger into her wife’s slick cunt, Rhaenyra couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of just how tight she still was, at how deliciously her inner walls clung to her finger. No matter how wet and willing her Alicent was, Rhaenyra always had to enter her slowly at first to avoid causing her pain.
Not that she minded, of course.
She adored watching Alicent’s eyes roll back with pleasure as she was slowly stretched, relished hearing Alicent’s little whimpers as she begged her to continue pushing inside, savored feeling Alicent’s cunt fluttering eagerly and soaking her finger with even more wetness.
“You’re so good for me, Ali,” she praised, leaning down to cover her face in kisses as her finger sank deeper into her cunt. “Such a good girl. Always so wet and eager for me. You’re taking me so well, My Love.” She kissed her wife’s lips as Alicent writhed beneath her, swallowing her delightful moans. One of these days, she would need to take Alicent back to Dragonstone so that she could fuck her without needing to worry about the noise. “Does it feel good, Ali? The way that I’m stretching your tight cunt?”
“Yes, Nyra, yes.” Alicent clung to her as her hips rolled against Rhaenyra’s hand, soaking her even further. “Please, move. I’m ready. I can take it. Please, please, please.”
“All right, My Love.” Kissing her cheek, she slowly withdrew her finger, feeling Alicent shudder and quake beneath her. The tension in Rhaenyra’s lower belly coiled tighter in response to her wife’s pleasure, but she ignored it to focus on Alicent. “My good girl,” she crooned, smiling when Alicent’s walls spasmed around her finger and her entire body trembled.
Rhaenyra set a swift pace after that, her finger thrusting in and out of her wife’s drenched cunt as quickly as Alicent’s tight walls would allow. Each time she withdrew, Alicent’s walls would clench in an attempt to keep her inside, and her wife would whimper and whine in her ear. Rhaenyra would never tire of those sweet sounds, of the fire that they always ignited in her belly. Alicent just sounded so pretty when she begged, when she was all needy and wanton for her.
Alicent’s moans when Rhaenyra began curling her finger and rubbing against the front wall of her cunt with each stroke were positively whorish.
Seven fucking Hells. Rhaenyra’s clit throbbed, her cunt ached, and all she wanted was to beg for Alicent’s touch. But her darling wife deserved to have all of her attention, so instead she brought her mouth close to Alicent’s ear and began whispering to her. “I love the way you moan for me, Ali. So wanton, so desperate for me to fuck you harder. I love how wet you always are for me. How you’re so eager for my touch. I love the way your cunt clenches around my finger every time I tell you what a good girl you are.”
Alicent’s walls immediately tightened in response.
“Yes. Just like that, My Love.” Rhaenyra began pressing the heel of her hand against Alicent’s swollen clit each time she thrust inside, and her wife’s hips eagerly rose to meet her hand. “Gods, Ali, no matter how many times I fuck you, you’re still as tight as a maiden.” She lightly nipped at her throat, earning a surprised gasp. “Your cunt is so perfect, My Love. As are you. My perfect, brilliant, good wife.”
When she kissed Alicent’s neck, Rhaenyra felt her inner walls begin to pulse in the way that meant her wife was nearing her peak. “Yes. Good girl. I know you’re close now. I expect you to moan my name when you peak. Can you do that for me, Ali?”
Alicent’s eyes were squeezed shut, sweat beading on her forehead as she panted and moaned, but she managed to nod all the same.
“Good girl.” Pushing her finger deep inside the pulsing heat of her wife’s cunt, Rhaenyra roughly stroked her sensitive front wall while her thumb circled Alicent’s swollen clit.
Alicent thrashed twice more before her back arched off of the bed and her cunt began convulsing around Rhaenyra’s finger. “Rhaenyra!”
“That’s my good girl.” Rhaenyra captured her lips in a rough kiss, muffling further moans as Alicent’s body quaked beneath her. She would never tire of this, never tire of watching her wife come undone, of feeling it. Gods, Alicent was so perfect.
Rhaenyra gasped, hips jerking when she suddenly felt slender fingers slide between her legs, parting her folds and easily finding her clit.
Below her, Alicent’s eyes were glazed, and she was still shaking with pleasure, but her mouth was set in a determined line as her fingers roughly stroked Rhaenyra’s clit.
“Seven Hells, Ali,” she gasped, rolling her hips in search of additional friction, but there was none to be found. So much slick coated her cunt that each of her wife’s rough rubs felt like a smooth, teasing glide. She needed something else. Now. She was so close. Just— “Inside,” she panted. “I need you inside, My Love. Please. I need the stretch—”
Alicent thrust into her with three fingers.
Shockwaves of pleasure tore through Rhaenyra’s body at the sudden stretch, at the sudden fullness. Yes. Yes. Yes! The aching pressure that had been building within her from the moment that Alicent’s gown had pooled on the floor was at last released, making her head spin as her cunt clamped down hard on the fingers filling and stretching her so perfectly. Tremors wracked her body, and her arms shook with the effort of holding herself up so that she didn’t collapse onto her wife.
“It’s all right, Nyra.” Alicent’s smile was far too sweet and innocent, considering three of her fingers were buried knuckle-deep in Rhaenyra’s cunt. “I want to feel every inch of you pressed against me.”
With a relieved grunt, Rhaenyra obeyed and lay down atop her wife. Her hips rolled as she gently fucked herself on Alicent’s fingers, savoring the final waves of pleasure that washed over her. “I love you,” she sighed, burying her face in the crook of her wife’s neck.
“I love you, too, Nyra.” With her free hand, Alicent gave her hip an affectionate squeeze before slowly withdrawing her soaked fingers.
Rhaenyra whined at the loss, the walls of her cunt fluttering mournfully. She was half-tempted to beg her wife for another peak, but the exhaustion of the day was setting in fast, and she already felt deliciously boneless.
Lifting her head from Alicent’s neck, she captured her wife’s lips in a sweet kiss. And when Alicent kissed back, that was more than enough.
Three Weeks Later
Rhaenyra hurried through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste.
In the distance, she could hear her son’s wails.
Seven Hells. She’d only meant to be gone for fifteen minutes—at most—only long enough to visit her father’s chambers and relay the morning’s news to him. Such meetings had become a part of their daily routine in the weeks since Lyonel had left for Harrenhal. Without even meaning to, she’d assumed the majority of the Hand’s responsibilities, which left her feeling exhausted at the end of most days. She was fairly certain that she would have snapped by now if not for Alicent, who always had some helpful suggestion or clever solution whenever Rhaenyra came to her with a problem.
When she rushed into the nursery, she was surprised to find Alicent already there.
Her wife was standing in front of the window, her back to her as she attempted to soothe Vic, whose piercing cries seemed to only be growing louder.
“Alicent.”
Alicent spun to face her, a bit faster than she probably should have with Vic in her arms. “Rhaenyra. Thank the gods.” She swiftly crossed the room and handed her their son.
Almost as soon as Vic was settled in Rhaenyra’s arms, he quieted.
“It seems our son doesn’t realize how rude it is to choose a favorite mother so early,” Alicent tsked, but her words held no bite, only warmth and fondness.
Rhaenyra smiled slightly, playfully nudging Alicent’s hip with her own. “It would be much more polite for him to wait until he’s older, hmm? As Aemond did?”
“Exactly.”
Before either of them could say more, one of her father’s servants hurried into the nursery with a summons from the king for “his lady wife.”
Rhaenyra swiftly smothered the spark of resentment that always flared whenever she was reminded that Alicent was married to her father, that Alicent was his wife in the eyes of the realm.
Alicent was hers.
With a placid smile that did not reach her eyes, Alicent assured the servant that she would be along in a moment.
As soon as the servant was gone, Alicent turned to her with an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, My Love. I will see you this evening?”
The question was so soft and hopeful that it was all Rhaenyra could do not to lean over and kiss her wife’s sweet lips. “Of course, Ali. I’ll come to you as soon as I’m able.” And then I’ll give you such pleasure that you won’t even remember your own name, never mind my father’s.
Some part of her knew that her jealousy was irrational, that Alicent loved her, and her alone. But every time someone referred to Alicent as her father’s wife, it made her blood boil. It made her want to claim Alicent in every way that mattered. It made her want to leave marks all over Alicent’s neck so that anyone who looked at her would know that she was Rhaenyra’s.
Had Alicent not told her on several occasions that she greatly enjoyed the nights that Rhaenyra felt the need to claim her, she might have made an effort to curb her jealousy. But as it was, she saw no need if her wife did not mind.
Leaning forward, she gave Alicent a quick kiss on the cheek, the same sort that they’d oft given each other as girls. “Vic and I will be in the godswood for the next few hours. If you’re able to get away.”
Alicent squeezed her arm in response, brown eyes warm with adoration, before hurrying out of the nursery to answer the king’s summons.
Rhaenyra sighed as she watched her go, but when she looked down at their son, her mood lightened at once. While their youngest boy had inherited many of Laenor’s features—including his nose—she liked to think that he had Alicent’s chin. “Let’s go to the godswood, hmm?” she cooed. “I can show you all of the places your mother and I liked to spend our time when we were girls together.”
Vic only blinked up at her, but he didn’t resume crying, so she accepted it as a victory.
∞
“Rhaenyra.”
Rhaenyra looked up from Vic’s peacefully slumbering face, a smile beginning to form on her lips because she recognized Harwin’s voice.
But then her mind registered his tone, and her eyes caught sight of her friend.
His voice was rough, and she saw now that it was rough with unshed tears. Moisture glistened in his brown eyes, and his whole body was trembling.
In his fist was clutched a raven scroll.
Rising to her feet, she hastened to him as swiftly as she could without disturbing Vic. “Harwin, what’s happened?”
“My father . . .” Harwin’s jaw clenched as he blinked rapidly. “I just received word that there was a fire. He—” He sucked in a breath, eyes closing for a brief moment as he composed himself. When his eyes opened once more, they bored into her. “Rhaenyra, why did you order me not to return with him to Harrenhal? Why?”
Rhaenyra’s own eyes had gone wide with horrified understanding. A fire at Harrenhal. Smoking towers beside a great body of water—the Gods Eye. Lyonel Strong dead. The sigil of his house—the three forks of the Trident—set ablaze. This was Helaena’s vision come to pass.
And Harwin had been meant to die as well.
Two Weeks Later
Her father had wanted to host a tourney to celebrate her being named Hand, but she and Alicent had dissuaded him, pointing out to him that it would be in poor taste, considering why the position was vacant. He’d relented easily enough—as he so often did whenever she and Alicent stood united on an issue—and agreed to have a simple ceremony in the throne room instead.
Now, as she stood at the base of the Iron Throne wearing the Hand’s pin, Rhaenyra’s eyes could not help but search for Larys Strong among those gathered to witness her investiture. She found him easily enough, standing beside Harwin as he was. Lord Larys’ expression was perfectly sedate, and while he was not clapping with everyone else, that could be excused by his infirmity. For as always, he was leaning heavily on his cane.
Her gaze shifted to Alicent, who was watching her with a soft smile on her lovely face and clapping as enthusiastically as her position allowed.
Much as Rhaenyra would have preferred to continue beholding her exquisite wife, her eyes returned again and again to Lord Larys.
“Beware the grasping beast with darkness in his eyes,” Helaena had said.
At the time, she had not known who her daughter meant. And even now, she could not be certain. But there was something about Harwin’s brother that had always troubled her. And she well-remembered what Alicent had told her all those years ago. How it had been Lord Larys who had approached her wife in the gardens and whispered poison in her ears, how he had been the one to tell Alicent about the moon tea.
Rhaenyra had never trusted him after learning of that conversation, and she knew that her wife distrusted him as well. But their personal dislike of the man and Helaena’s riddles were hardly proof of his guilt. Assuming he was guilty at all, she and Alicent would need to gather actual evidence to present to her father if they wished to bring Lord Larys to justice.
Once more, she found Alicent in the crowd. Whatever the truth, she had little doubt that the two of them working together would discover the proof they needed soon enough. The likes of Otto Hightower and Larys Strong had sought to divide them once, because they’d known, even back then, that when she and Alicent acted as one, there was nothing they could not accomplish.