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Alicent could feel her wife’s eyes on her.

They’d been following her the entire evening, tracking her every movement as she was passed from one lord to the next in a seemingly endless series of dances that had left her feeling exhausted. Her feet ached, and her legs were so tired, and she wanted nothing so much as to return to her place at the high table and sit down.

Gods be good, she needed to escape this madness.

She should have known better than to accept Lord Rosby’s offer to dance. She had known better, in truth. But she’d hesitated too long in declining, and the king had taken the opportunity to accept on her behalf.

And so Lord Rosby had snatched up her hand and pulled her to her feet, so swiftly and eagerly that Alicent had almost stumbled.

Her wife had half-risen from her chair at that, violet eyes blazing with indignation, but a look from Alicent and Laenor’s hand on Rhaenyra’s arm had prevented her princess from doing anything foolish.

Once her dance with Lord Rosby was over and done, she’d thought to slip away and return to the high table where she might while away the rest of the evening with her wife and Laenor, but a hand on her waist had stopped her, and she’d soon found herself dancing with Lord Wylde, who had held her far too close and far too tightly for her liking or comfort.

After him had come Lord Stokeworth, then Lord Buckler, followed by Lord Harte, Lord Tyland, Lord Hayford, and Lord Merryweather. She’d stopped trying to remember names and faces after that, simply allowing the various men who took a turn with her to blend together in her mind. They were all much the same, in truth. Complimenting her beauty, her children, her gown, her manners, her House, her youth. But none cared to hear any of her thoughts or opinions, or whether she even wished to dance with them.

There was a time when such disregard would not have bothered her at all. And in truth, even now, it bothered her but little. Men paid no heed to the wants and whims of women. It would be foolish to expect anything different. She understood this, accepted this.

But she’d grown spoiled since her and Rhaenyra’s reconciliation and marriage. Spoiled by her wife always being eager to hear her thoughts and opinions on anything and everything. Spoiled by her wife always considering her desires and oft putting them ahead of her own. Spoiled by her wife defending her and gazing upon her with such open adoration.

Even now, Rhaenyra was watching over her, despite there being naught that she could do about the lords who refused to leave Alicent be. The few times that Alicent had managed to catch her wife’s eyes, Rhaenyra’s expression had softened with apology even as her jaw clenched at her own inability to help.

Rhaenyra would never have accepted an invitation to dance on Alicent’s behalf. Rhaenyra would never have grabbed her arm and pulled her into a tenth dance without so much as a “by your leave.” Rhaenyra would never have squeezed her hips so hard that she left bruises behind.

Well, not unless Alicent asked it of her.

Her sweet wife had spoiled her.

Her husband had reminded her of her place.

She should have spoken up sooner.

When the dance at last ended, she barely had a moment to catch her breath before another hand was grabbing her arm.

“May I have the honor of this dance, Your Grace?”

Alicent looked up at the man whose hand was on her arm, wondering—rather absurdly—if he would have dared touch Queen Aemma this way. Would any of the lords this evening have dared touch Queen Aemma as they’ve touched me?

Likely not.

Aemma Arryn had been a true queen, not a girl forced to dress in a dead woman’s clothes and desperately attempt to fill the void she’d left behind. There had always been a quiet dignity about the late queen, something that men respected even if they had not respected her.

And, perhaps most importantly, the king would have actually acted in response to a lord grabbing his beloved Queen Aemma in such a way.

Alicent knew that he would not do the same for her, and it seemed the lords gathered in this hall knew it as well. Why else would they dare take such liberties? Why else would they dare hold her so close to their chests as they danced? Why else would they dare squeeze her waist or hips so tightly? Why else would they dare smile at her a little too broadly, a little too suggestively?

Ever since she’d given birth to Daeron over a year and a half ago, Viserys’ indifference towards her had grown more and more apparent. He no longer summoned her to his bed—for which she was eternally grateful—but he also paid her no mind during the day. Despite dutifully tending to his aches and easing his pains, he rarely so much as looked at her. She supposed that it had only been a matter of time before the rest of the court took notice of his disregard, before they, too, lost what little respect they had for her.

It matters not, she reminded herself. Regardless of the king’s indifference, she was his wife and therefore queen. She was well within her rights and royal prerogative to decline a lord’s invitation to dance. After having accepted so many other invitations, it would no longer be seen as rude for her to decline this one.

Squaring her shoulders, Alicent forced a smile to her lips as she addressed the lord whose grip on her arm had yet to loosen. “I’m afraid I must decline, My Lord.”

Rather than releasing her, the lord simply leaned in closer. “The hour has not grown so very late, Your Grace.” His eyes glinted in a way that made her skin crawl. “Surely a beautiful young woman such as yourself cannot yet be tired. You—”

“Begging your pardon, Lord Staunton, but Her Grace has already promised me this dance.”

Alicent’s practiced, courtly smile transformed into a genuine one upon hearing Joffrey’s familiar voice behind her. Thank the gods. She spun around to face him, freeing her arm from Lord Staunton’s grasp in the process. “Ser Joffrey, I was just coming in search of you.” She glanced over her shoulder at the now befuddled and rather indignant lord. “I’m afraid Ser Joffrey is correct, My Lord. This dance is already promised to him. Perhaps another evening.”

Rather than providing Lord Staunton a chance to respond, Joffrey offered her his arm, Alicent did not hesitate to accept it, and neither of them spared the lord a second glance as they strode away from him and deeper into the crowd.

“Your timing is impeccable, Joff,” she whispered once they were far enough away not to be overheard by the spurned lord.

“Hardly,” he chuckled. “I’ve been trying to intervene for the past five dances. Those damn lords were simply too quick for me.”

Alicent clicked her tongue at the cursing—they were still in public, after all—earning a sheepish smile in apology. She patted his hand in response. “All the same, I thank you.”

“Well, what sort of knight errant would I be, had I left a fair maiden in the clutches of such a foul beast?”

“A rather poor one, I should think.”

Joffrey nodded with mock seriousness. “Exactly.”

When the music resumed, they had no choice but to stop where they were and properly join in the dance.

Alicent’s feet wailed in protest.

“This dance will be a short one,” Joffrey promised her under his breath as he took her hand and gave her a brief spin. “I’ve already paid off the musicians.”

Alicent almost laughed aloud, but she swiftly smothered the urge before she could make a fool of herself. “You are most gallant, Ser.”

“Oh, not at all.” Joffrey gently pulled her close to his chest, taking care to only put his hands in respectful places. “I am acting in a wholly selfish manner, I assure you. Had that earlier nonsense continued much longer, our dear princess would have begun demanding heads.” An amused smirk curled his lips. “As it is, Laenor is the only thing standing between those lords who ‘dared lay hands on you,’ and Ser Harrold’s blade.”

Alicent knew that she should not be so warmed by her wife’s willingness to put people to the sword for her sake, but she would be lying if she said that the knowledge did not make her shiver with a queer sense of pleasure.

Rhaenyra had always been protective of her, ever since they were children.

Their first encounter had been something of a debacle. Excited to at last be meeting a girl her own age, the over-eager princess had practically flown at her, scaring Alicent half to death and making Queen Aemma flush with embarrassment for her daughter’s lack of manners. But Rhaenyra had been quick to apologize for frightening her, and even quicker still to promise that she would ensure Alicent was not similarly frightened in the future.

It had been a promise well-kept for many years.

Alicent still remembered with fond amusement when they were one and ten and a squire had made the mistake of insulting her within Rhaenyra’s hearing. Her princess had practically attacked the boy, only prevented from doing so by Ser Harrold’s swift intervention and Alicent’s own assurances that the insult was of little consequence.

Since their reconciliation and marriage, Rhaenyra’s protectiveness had increased a hundredfold.

While Alicent sometimes wondered how much of that protectiveness was due to her wife’s guilt over having been unable to protect her from the king, the answer mattered little. Rhaenyra loved her and defended her in whatever ways she could, and that was more than enough.

And although Alicent would never condone her wife ordering a mass execution of her dance partners, the knowledge that Rhaenyra wanted to—that Rhaenyra cared for her so deeply—it made her feel safe, cherished.

“If the princess was to start demanding heads,” Joffrey was saying, drawing her back from her own thoughts, “I dare say it would spoil the evening. And that would entirely ruin my own plans.”

Alicent quirked a teasing smile. “Oh? And what plans are those, Ser?” Not that she couldn’t guess, considering the looks she’d caught Laenor and Joffrey exchanging earlier.

“Plans unfit to be spoken aloud in such delicate company, I’m afraid.” Joffrey lowered his voice to a suggestive whisper. “Simply know that the sudden deaths of nearly two dozen lords would do nothing to make my dear husband . . . receptive to those plans.”

Alicent could well imagine. While Laenor had seen combat and oft seemed eager to see it again, she suspected that there was a difference between seeing men die in battle and seeing men forced to their knees before having their heads struck from their shoulders. “Well, regardless of your selfish motives, I am grateful for your aid all the same.”

Joffrey simply grinned at her in response. And it was the same easy and carefree grin that he’d given her five years earlier when the four of them had first forged their complicated marital relationship. At the time, she’d known nothing of Joffrey Lonmouth, save that he was Laenor’s lover. But in the years since, she’d come to value his friendship and appreciate his affable nature. For of the four of them, he had the fewest cares, which allowed him to more easily lift their spirits when necessary.

Craning her neck slightly, Alicent was able to catch a glimpse of the high table through the press of people surrounding them. She saw her wife glaring furiously out at the crowd, while beside her, Laenor reached over to lightly tap her arm. Rhaenyra’s glower briefly disappeared in response to the tap, as she seemed to remember that they were in public.

Alicent suspected that Laenor had been tapping Rhaenyra’s arm for much of the evening.

Nyra will be cross tonight, she mused, which sent a pleasant shiver of anticipation rippling down her spine to settle warmly between her legs. Her wife’s jealousy was far more arousing than it had any right to be, and Alicent could hardly be blamed for enjoying the nights that Rhaenyra felt the need to lay claim to her—not when such nights always left her feeling deliciously boneless and sated.

Those were also the nights when Rhaenyra would take her roughly, when her wife’s hands and mouth would be greedy and demanding in a way that they never were otherwise. Alicent could not have imagined ever wanting such treatment from her darling wife a year ago, and she still oft marveled at her own sense of anticipation for it now.

A single moment of Rhaenyra accidentally forgetting herself and squeezing her breast a little too hard had resulted in months of careful exploration and embarrassing conversations that ultimately culminated in Alicent realizing that she actually didn’t mind her wife being a little rough with her from time to time.

Because even when she was rough, Rhaenyra always took care not to hurt.

Alicent had never for a moment felt unsafe in her wife’s bed. Occasionally nervous if they were trying something new, perhaps, but never unsafe, never unloved, never as if she might be scolded or shamed or scowled at for hesitating or saying “no.”

She knew that Rhaenyra would immediately stop everything if she asked. She knew that Rhaenyra would pause at once if she made so much as a pained or discomforted noise. She knew that Rhaenyra would never demand that she turn over and present like a bitch to be bred.

She knew that she had a choice when they were in bed together.

And there was something strangely arousing about knowing that she wielded such power over her wife, about knowing that she still had control even when Rhaenyra was pinning her down and ravishing her.

“Alicent?”

“Hmm?” Alicent blinked a few times as she was dragged from her thoughts, suddenly realizing that the dance had ended. Her cheeks flushed. “My apologies. I became distracted.”

Joffrey chuckled. “So I noticed.” The teasing smirk curling his lips told Alicent that he knew exactly where her mind had wandered.

Blessedly, he offered no further comments, simply keeping a hold of her hand so he could escort her back to the high table.

Proper protocol dictated that she be returned to her place beside the king, but Laenor had taken it upon himself to usurp her seat in order to engage his good-father in conversation, leaving Alicent with no other option than to take his vacated chair beside Rhaenyra.

Such a pity.

No sooner had she sat back down than Rhaenyra’s hand was finding hers beneath the table, tangling their fingers together and squeezing tight.

“Are you well?” Rhaenyra whispered, eyes roving over her body, as if she could still see the lords’ hands upon her.

“I am,” Alicent assured her. In truth, the worst that any of them had done was place a hand far too low on her back for comfort. Most had contented themselves with simply squeezing her hips or gripping her waist too hard. Improper behavior towards any lady, to be sure, never mind a queen, but nothing she could not handle. So long as it went no further.

As Joffrey bowed and departed the dais, Rhaenyra offered him a grateful smile, while Laenor paused in his conversation just long enough to grin at his husband like a fool. Joffrey, in turn, responded with a bold wink.

Gods be good, sometimes it seemed as if the two of them wanted tongues to wag and gossip to spread. It was honestly a miracle that the whole of the Seven Kingdoms did not know of their relationship, considering how brazenly they flirted with one another for all to see.

But perhaps I have no room to criticize.

At least not at present.

In the years since their reconciliation, Rhaenyra had been coming to her chambers and sleeping in her bed almost every night. So it was nigh inevitable that servants would, on occasion, find the princess in the queen’s bedchamber at what most would consider “inappropriate hours.” She and Rhaenyra had always offered the same explanation whenever that happened, that they’d been enjoying a quiet evening together and had simply forgotten the hour.

For years, the servants had accepted this explanation without question.

Unfortunately, it seemed that a few had finally taken notice of the fact that Rhaenyra was almost always wearing her nightclothes when she was found in Alicent’s bedchamber.

Rumors and gossip had begun to spread throughout the Red Keep in recent months: rumors about the princess’ late-night visits to the queen’s bedchamber, about the “noises” that could sometimes be overheard if one was listening closely enough, about the “unusual closeness” of the princess and the queen.

Thankfully, most dismissed such whispers as utter nonsense, for it seemed that the majority of people could not even begin to fathom what two women might do abed together other than sleep.

But there were some . . .

Not even a week ago, she’d overheard Lord Lannister jesting with his brother about “the Hightower Queen who has ridden two dragons,” and those words had filled her with dread. If Lord Lannister were to say such things to Viserys . . . the king might just be inclined to believe his Warden of the West.

And then what?

Alicent had no doubt that Viserys would never retaliate against his daughter, but against her? And her children? She had no such certainty.

Rhaenyra assured her that the gossip was naught to be concerned about, and that even if it did reach the king’s ears, he would never believe it. “My Love, I doubt my father is the sort of man who could even comprehend the notion that two women sharing a bed might involve more than mere slumber.”

Alicent only prayed that her wife was correct.

The sudden feeling of Rhaenyra’s hand abandoning hers drew Alicent from her anxious thoughts, but before she even had time to wonder about the sudden loss, she felt that same hand settle high on her thigh. Gods be good. She could feel the warmth of her wife’s hand through the fabric of her skirts, could feel her mouth becoming dry even as her smallclothes grew damp.

When she felt her wife’s hand begin to move higher up her thigh and slide inwards between her legs, Alicent’s head snapped to the side, where she saw that Rhaenyra’s lips were curled into a satisfied smile.

Seven Hells, her wife had no shame.

Pressure was beginning to gather in her lower belly as Rhaenyra’s hand crept closer and closer to her cunt. Damn it, Rhaenyra, your father is sitting directly beside you. And while the king had not so much as even glanced in Alicent’s direction when she’d returned to the table, if he were to look at her now, surely he would notice her flushed cheeks and heavier breathing.

Grabbing her wife’s wrist, Alicent attempted to shift her hand so that it was at least on her knee, but Rhaenyra only tightened her grip on her inner thigh in response. “Rhaenyra,” she hissed, “not here.”

Rhaenyra’s hand retreated at once.

Alicent expected to be given an apologetic smile or a sheepish expression, but what she received instead was a look of unabashed desire. Her breath hitched, and she couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably in her chair as she felt her smallclothes beginning to cling to her lower lips.

“Later then,” Rhaenyra promised, violet eyes almost black. She leaned over to whisper in her ear, “You’re mine, Ali.”

Alicent fisted her skirts and clenched her thighs together in a desperate attempt not to shudder at her wife’s words. Gods, when would this interminable feast end? 

∞∞

The door to Alicent’s bedchamber had barely closed behind them before Rhaenyra was shoving her up against the wall and claiming her lips in a searing kiss. Alicent whimpered, hands scrabbling for purchase on Rhaenyra’s shoulders as her wife’s tongue invaded her mouth and danced with her own. She could feel her smallclothes growing soaked with her desperation, could feel her inner walls clenching around nothing as her cunt throbbed with need.

Breaking their kiss, Rhaenyra gave Alicent’s bottom lip a parting bite before drawing back enough so that they could properly see each other. Her wife’s violet eyes were dark with desire and burning with jealousy. Her cheeks were flushed a dark red, and her lips were becoming slightly swollen from their kiss. Her breasts were rapidly rising and falling as she caught her breath, and wisps of silver-gold hair had already escaped her carefully styled braids.

Gods be good, her wife was breathtaking.

“I never should have let you leave the high table.” Rhaenyra’s words were little more than a furious growl, sending a thrill of pleasure rippling through Alicent’s body. “Watching all those lords dance with you, watching them put their hands on you,” Rhaenyra pressed a wet kiss to the hollow of her throat, “it was torture.”

Alicent shuddered, squirming against the wall and squeezing her thighs together in a vain attempt to soothe the ache between her legs. Her wife’s hot mouth on her sensitive throat made her breath catch, and her whole body felt both uncomfortably and wonderfully hot. “Yours are the only hands I want on me, My Love,” she assured her.

“Good girl.” Rhaenyra kissed her again, swallowing Alicent’s moan as a fresh wave of slick drenched her smallclothes in response to the praise. Seven Hells, she loved it when her wife called her “good,” loved the way that those two simple words always made her stomach twist deliciously and her heart flutter happily and her cunt clench wantonly.

A whine of protest spilled from Alicent’s lips when Rhaenyra broke their kiss a moment later. “Why—?” Her words quickly dissolved into needy whimpers when Rhaenyra’s mouth found her pulse point and sucked harshly. Alicent arched her neck to offer better access, fingers digging into her wife’s shoulders. “Nyra,” she gasped, as teeth sank into her throat. “My Love, please. I need you. I need more.”

“Tell me you’re mine, Ali.” Rhaenyra’s words were slightly muffled as she continued to nibble and suck on Alicent’s neck, but Alicent understood them all the same.

“I’m yours, Nyra. Oh, gods.” Her hips bucked when a warm hand fell upon her breast and eager fingers teased her nipple through the fabric of her gown. “Always. I’ve only ever been yours.”

Rhaenyra rewarded her by rucking up her skirts and pushing a hand between her legs to roughly cup her cunt.

Alicent moaned wantonly and rolled her hips against her wife’s hand, silently begging for Rhaenyra to soothe the maddening ache. The fire in Alicent’s belly was scorching her insides, and blood pounded in her ears. Gods, surely Rhaenyra could feel the way her cunt throbbed for her, could feel how desperate she was for her touch.

“You’re soaked, Ali, practically dripping.” Rhaenyra’s fingers began rubbing her through the drenched fabric of her smallclothes, making Alicent gasp and press down harder against her hand in search of more friction. Rhaenyra grinned. “Such a needy and wanton little thing, aren’t you, My Sweet Wife?”

“Yes,” Alicent whined. “Yes, Nyra, I am. I need you so much. Please.”

Rhaenyra tugged down her smallclothes, letting them pool around Alicent’s ankles. When her hand returned to Alicent’s cunt, she slid her fingers through the soaked folds and gathered the warm slick that she found there. “Seven Hells, Ali. You’re so wet for me.” She nipped her throat. “It is all for me, isn’t it?”

Alicent nodded, eyes squeezing shut as her legs trembled and her hips bucked. She was close. Her wife had barely even touched her, but she knew that she was already close. She could feel her inner walls clenching and fluttering, could feel the coil in her belly growing tighter and tighter as Rhaenyra pushed her towards her peak.

“Use your words, My Good Girl.” Rhaenyra tapped her clit, causing Alicent to shudder and her cunt to release even more slick onto her wife’s hand. “Is all of this wetness for me?”

“Yes,” she panted, barely able to think, but knowing that she needed to answer, that she wanted to answer. Everything was for Rhaenyra. Every moan, every whimper, every peak. They were all for Rhaenyra, and Rhaenyra alone. “It’s all for you, Nyra. Everything. I only ever get wet for you, My Love.”

Her wife’s fingers stilled for a brief moment, but before Alicent could utter a word of protest, Rhaenyra started roughly stroking her clit. “You’re mine, Ali. Only mine.”

They weren’t questions, but Alicent answered them all the same. “Yes. Yes, My Love. I’m yours. Only yours.”

“No one else will ever make you feel this good.” Rhaenyra nipped her pulse point. “No one else will ever get to touch you like this.”

Alicent nodded furiously, hips bucking to meet each of her wife’s strokes. Gods, she was so close. Just a little more. Her toes were curling so hard that she feared they might cramp, and it was all she could do to keep her legs spread for her wife’s hand.

“Words, Ali.” Rhaenyra brought her free hand up to roughly squeeze her breast.

“Yes, Nyra, yes!” Alicent cried. “Only you make me feel this way. Only you get to touch me like this. I’m yours, My Love. Only yours.” It didn’t matter that her words weren’t entirely true. Not right now. Not in this moment. All that mattered to either of them was her wife laying claim to her.

“My Alicent.” Rhaenyra nipped at Alicent’s pulse point, making her legs tremble. “My wife.” She brushed her fingers over Alicent’s entrance, making her entire body spasm. “My good girl.” She pressed down hard on Alicent’s clit, making her wail and thrash in her grasp.

“Rhaenyra!” Alicent’s legs gave out from under her as she reached her peak, waves of pleasure crashing over her and threatening to drown her in their intensity. Her cunt clenched around nothing as the coiling pressure in her belly finally snapped in blissful release.

Her wife caught her as she fell, easing them both onto the floor and holding Alicent as she trembled and shook with the force of her peak.

“Such a good girl for me,” Rhaenyra crooned, one hand lovingly stroking her back. “My Lovely Wife. My Sweet Alicent. No one else will ever get to see how beautiful you look when you come undone. Only me.”

“Only you,” Alicent agreed, pressing closer to her wife and soaking in her warm affections. Gods be good, she adored this woman more than words could describe.

Rhaenyra continued to tenderly kiss and gently caress her until Alicent was recovered enough to stand. Once she was able to rise, she and Rhaenyra quickly helped each other out of their gowns and undergarments, discarding everything in untidy heaps on the floor to be worried about some other time.

Moments later, Rhaenyra practically shoved Alicent down onto the bed before climbing up after her.

Alicent sighed happily at the familiar feeling of Rhaenyra’s warm weight atop her, comforting and arousing her all at once. She reached up and looped her arms around her wife’s neck, pulling her in for a kiss. She could taste herself on Rhaenyra’s tongue, and she wondered absently when it was that her wife had licked her fingers clean.

A disappointed whine escaped her throat when Rhaenyra broke their kiss, but it was soon forgotten as her wife’s hands and mouth began exploring every inch of her body. Alicent’s eyes squeezed shut as she quickly became lost in the pleasurable sensations of Rhaenyra’s warm lips, wet tongue, and calloused fingers kissing her, licking her, and touching her seemingly everywhere all at once. Gods above. She’d peaked once not even ten minutes ago, and already she felt as if she was on the precipice of a second.

She gasped when sharp teeth and a soothing tongue attacked her neck with bruising kisses.

She moaned when rough hands fondled her breasts and pinched her nipples.

She whimpered when her lips were claimed in another burning kiss.

She whined when the kiss was broken yet again.

“You’re so beautiful, Ali.” Rhaenyra’s voice was husky with desire, her eyes almost glazed with want. “My Perfect Alicent.”

Alicent writhed beneath her, back arching off of the bed when her wife squeezed her breasts and sank her teeth into her neck. The rough treatment was so different from the tender touches and gentle caresses and warm kisses Rhaenyra usually bestowed upon her, but Seven Hells if Alicent didn’t enjoy it just as much.

When Rhaenyra’s thigh pushed between her legs, Alicent’s hips bucked as she desperately rubbed her aching cunt against the flexing muscles. She needed more, but when her hand tried to slide lower, Rhaenyra swiftly grabbed her wrist and pinned it above her head. “No. Only I get to touch you.”

Alicent whimpered, pressing her cunt more firmly against her wife’s thigh. “Then please, My Love, touch me. I need you.” When she instead felt Rhaenyra’s thigh withdrawing from between her legs, a desperate whine tore from her throat as she clutched at her wife’s shoulder with her free hand. “No, Nyra, please, please.”

“Hush, Ali.” Rhaenyra pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “I’ll give you what you want. Don’t fret.” A sly smile curled her lips. “Just as soon as you give me what I want.”

Oh. Oh, yes. Alicent nodded eagerly. “Can I taste you, Nyra? Please?” The last time that they’d made love, her wife had wanted her fingers and then been too tired for a second peak, so Alicent had had to content herself with only being able to lick her fingers clean rather than drinking her wife’s pleasure directly.

Amusement sparked in Rhaenyra’s perfect violet eyes. “Such an eager little wife I have,” she murmured. Grasping Alicent’s hips, she rolled them over so that Alicent was straddling her waist. “Give me your fingers first, My Love. Then I’ll happily accept your tongue.”

Rather than obeying right away, Alicent instead leaned down and captured one of her wife’s hardened nipples between her lips. While Rhaenyra’s breasts were not as sensitive as her own, she knew that her wife still enjoyed having attention lavished upon them.

Beneath her, Rhaenyra groaned, arching slightly to push her breast more firmly against Alicent’s mouth. “Good girl,” she sighed.

Alicent squirmed, feeling a fresh wave of wetness flood from her cunt to soak her wife’s stomach. She nipped at the pebbled flesh in her mouth before bringing one of her hands up to caress her wife’s other breast, earning a pleased whimper. She’d always loved the feeling of Rhaenyra’s warm breasts in her hands, the gentle slopes and curves, the supple flesh, the way they responded so well to her touches.

She continued to swirl her tongue around her wife’s hardened nipple, enjoying the quiet whimpers and whines she earned with each swipe. When she grazed her teeth over the taut flesh, Rhaenyra’s hips bucked beneath her, making her own cunt clench in response. Gods, she felt empty. It was times like this that Alicent wondered if she might enjoy having her wife’s fingers inside her. Rhaenyra always seemed to find pleasure from her fingers, but the very thought of being filled by anything more than her wife’s tongue made her stomach clench uncomfortably.

Maybe someday.

“Mm. Ali. Please, My Love.” Rhaenyra gently tugged on her hair, urging her to move lower.

Releasing her wife’s nipple, Alicent continued sliding her way down Rhaenyra’s perfect body. She pressed kisses to the undersides of her breasts, to the defined plane of her stomach, to the curve of her hips, to the muscles of her upper thighs, and finally to the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs.

Above her, Rhaenyra moaned, hips bucking as her legs spread wider to offer her more room. “Ali,” she panted, “don’t tease.”

Alicent ignored her, allowing herself a moment to simply drink in the sight of her wife’s cunt, of the slick and swollen folds, of the sweet pinks and lovely reds hidden deeper within. She’d never much considered that a woman’s sex might be pretty, but Rhaenyra’s certainly was. Her mouth watered at the sight of her wife’s clit peeking out from beneath its hood and plainly eager for her fingers and tongue.

Fingers first, she reminded herself. Bringing her hand up, Alicent gently teased her wife’s drenched entrance, smiling when Rhaenyra’s hips jerked in response. “How many fingers, Nyra?” She was fairly certain that she knew the answer, but she wanted to be sure.

“Two,” Rhaenyra gasped. “I need two.”

Alicent easily slipped two fingers inside, a quiet moan escaping her own lips at the feeling of her wife’s warm, wet walls enveloping her. The inside of her wife’s cunt was soft and smooth and silky, and the way those inner walls clenched around her fingers made fresh wetness spill from between her own legs.

Rhaenyra keened as Alicent began moving her fingers in and out of her. “Fuck, yes, Ali! Gods. A bit faster, My Love. I can take it.”

Alicent increased the pace of her thrusts, curling her fingers each time she withdrew to rub against the sensitive front wall of her wife’s cunt. Each time she touched the special spot that her wife had guided her to the first time they’d lain together, Rhaenyra’s hips bucked and a stream of curses fell from her lips.

Strong fingers suddenly tangled in Alicent’s hair, tugging her head forward. “Mouth,” Rhaenyra gasped. “Please, Ali.”

Finally. Alicent immediately closed her lips around her wife’s clit, sucking harshly and flicking it with the tip of her tongue.

Rhaenyra’s back arched as she thrashed above her. “Yes, Ali, yes. Don’t stop, My Love. Don’t you dare stop.”

As if she would.

Her tongue lapped eagerly at the swollen bud between her lips, paying special attention to the underside, where she knew her wife was most sensitive. She could feel the walls of Rhaenyra’s cunt clenching hard around her fingers, informing her that her wife was close. Halting her thrusts, she kept her fingers buried deep and focused on stroking the front wall of her wife’s cunt while her tongue lashed her clit.

“Fucking Hells, Ali,” Rhaenyra moaned. “Yes. Yes. Yes. My Love. My good girl. You’re so good for me, Ali. Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” Her grip on Alicent’s hair briefly tightened almost to the point of pain, but before Alicent could even fully recognize the sensation, Rhaenyra’s hands were retreating from her hair and fisting the sheets instead. Her hips bucked wildly, nearly dislodging Alicent’s fingers from inside her. “Please,” she gasped, “I’m so close.”

Alicent pressed her lips and tongue firmly against Rhaenyra’s clit and hummed loudly just as her fingers curled and twisted within her wife’s tightening cunt.

Rhaenyra peaked with a strangled cry of Alicent’s name, quaking and convulsing as pleasure wracked her body.

Swiftly withdrawing her fingers, Alicent replaced them with her mouth, thrusting her tongue inside clenching walls and lapping up the wetness that spilled forth. Her chin and neck were soaked in seconds, and she reveled in the feeling of being coated in her wife’s warm pleasure. She continued gently lapping at Rhaenyra’s quivering cunt, swallowing every bit of wetness that she could find and not stopping until she felt gentle hands pushing her head away.

“No more,” Rhaenyra panted. “Please.”

Crawling up her wife’s body, Alicent settled down on top of her, resting her head on her shoulder and placing her hand on her chest. “Was that all right?” Even though the evidence of Rhaenyra’s pleasure was still shining on her face, the little insecurities that always plagued her were never fully silenced until she received confirmation from her wife’s own lips.

Rhaenyra gave her a lazy smile, one hand rising to stroke her hair. “As ever, My Love, you were perfect.” She leaned forward to kiss her lips.

Alicent hummed contently, and while her own cunt still throbbed with need, she could be patient until her wife recovered.

The night was still young yet.

∞

When Alicent sat down at her vanity the next morning to brush out her hair, a horrified cry flew from her lips upon catching sight of her neck in the mirror. Gods be good. While she’d of course noticed that Rhaenyra had been paying special attention to her neck the night before, she hadn’t realized just how many marks her wife had left behind. Seven Hells, how was she supposed to hide them all?

“My Love?” Rhaenyra suddenly appeared beside her, eyes round with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” she repeated incredulously, slowly turning to face her wife. “Do you truly not see?”

Rhaenyra cocked her head slightly, eyes sweeping over her for a moment before pausing on her neck. “Oh.”

“Yes. ‘Oh.’” Alicent scowled at her. “Gods, Nyra, what were you thinking? I’ve warned you before about leaving visible marks.”

This was not good. This was not good at all. Of all the times . . .

She should have said something last night. The moment she’d felt Rhaenyra sucking on her pulse point, she should have said something. Gods be good, this was the last thing they needed at present. It was easy enough for people to ignore and dismiss rumors when they were no more than empty words, but now? When she had bruises scattered across her neck from Rhaenyra’s mouth? Anyone who saw them, anyone who had ever left or received such marks themselves would know. And if the king—

“Alicent. My Love. Breathe. I need you to breathe.”

Alicent hadn’t even realized that she’d begun to pant, that her head had begun to spin as her chest tightened painfully. “Nyra,” she gasped. Her vision was swimming, and she was distantly aware of her body swaying where she sat.

“It’s all right, Ali. I’m here.” Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight and pulling her close to her chest. “Just breathe with me, Ali. Match your breathing to mine. I know you can do it.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Alicent focused on the sound of Rhaenyra’s heartbeat, on the steady rise and fall of her wife’s chest as she breathed in and out. Breathe. Just breathe with her. Sucking in a shaky breath, she held it until she felt Rhaenyra exhale.

“Good, Ali. That’s right. Just like that.”

Her ears weren’t ringing any more. The tightness in her chest was fading. Thank the gods. She continued breathing with her wife for several more minutes, waiting under her heart was no longer thundering in her chest.

When Rhaenyra finally unwound her arms, she quickly brought her hands up to cup Alicent’s cheeks. “Everything will be all right, Ali. I promise. The marks will fade soon enough, and anyone who notices them will assume—” Her lips twisted into a grimace. “You’ll hardly be the first married woman to have such marks on your neck.”

But they weren’t left by my husband. “The king—”

“More like than not, my father won’t even know what they are.” Rhaenyra leaned in to press a reassuring kiss to her forehead. “If he even notices and thinks to ask, tell him that something you ate must have disagreed with you.”

Alicent stared at her incredulously. While it was certainly possible that Viserys simply wouldn’t notice the marks on her neck at all—it had been over a year since he’d spared her more than a brief glance when she was in his presence—the king was not a complete idiot. “He would never believe—”

“Don’t you remember that time when we were nine and you ate a rhubarb tart? Your face and hands were covered in red blotches for almost a week.”

Alicent blinked in surprise, for she actually had almost completely forgotten, in truth. Now that Rhaenyra had reminded her though . . .

Her mother had been horrified when Alicent had come to her covered in red marks. Her father had been mortified by the sight of her and forbidden her from ever going near rhubarb again. The king and queen had been sympathetic to her plight and had ordered the grand maester himself to tend to her. And Rhaenyra . . .

Well, once Rhaenyra had been assured that Alicent would live, she’d found the entire situation hilarious.

Rhaenyra gently gathered Alicent’s hands in hers, pressing sweet kisses to her fingers. “My Love. I swore to you once by all the gods that I would never let any harm come to you or our children.” She squeezed her hands. “I meant those words then, and I mean them now. No matter what happens, I will protect you, Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron.”

Alicent swallowed past the lump forming in her throat, unable to do anything but lean down and connect their lips in a warm kiss.

∞

Alicent was going to kill her wife.

She wasn’t certain how yet, but she was going to do it.

Assuming she herself didn’t die of mortification first.

It had been nearly a week, and the marks on her neck were only just beginning to fade. In that time, the whispers surrounding her and Rhaenyra had been growing louder, with more people seeming inclined to at least listen to them now that there was visible proof available.

Initially, she’d attempted to conceal the marks with high-necked dresses, but the sweltering heat of summer had quickly proven the unfeasibility of the solution. Cosmetics had proven equally ineffective for similar reasons. She’d briefly contemplated feigning illness, but the king and the Keep had too much need of her, and she could not simply abandon them for a week or more while she waited for the bruises to fade.

She’d overheard no fewer than five conversations in as many days speculating about whether the princess spent more time in her bed than the king.

When Viserys had finally noticed one of the marks on her neck the day before, she’d nearly dropped the book she’d been reading to him. The fact that she’d managed to tell him the food lie without faltering had surprised her almost as much as the fact that he’d believed her without further question.

Unfortunately, the other residents of the Keep were not so easily deceived . . .

In particular, Lord Lannister had been very loudly discussing with anyone who would listen “whether the princess prefers the queen to be on her back or her belly when she fucks her.”

Her wife had threatened to mount Syrax and make Casterly Rock a second Harrenhal when Alicent had shared with her that piece of gossip.

At present, Lord Lannister was deep in his cups and loudly telling some bawdy tale about a pair of whores pleasuring each other for his amusement. The men sitting around him were laughing heartily and slapping the table with their hands as they encouraged him to say more. “Her fingers were knuckle-deep—”

Alicent did her best to ignore them, though it was difficult with how close they were sitting to the high table. She forced her court smile to remain firmly in place on her lips and tried to distract herself by slicing her boar into smaller pieces.

Beside her, the king seemed to be only half-paying attention to what was happening around him, which was just as well.

Her wife, on the other hand, was glaring at Lord Lannister as if she wished to carve out his tongue.

“One of them,” Lord Lannister guffawed, “told me that women can satisfy each other just fine without a cock!”

The man sitting to Lord Lannister’s right responded with something that Alicent couldn’t hear, but the entire great hall heard what was said next.

“The whore couldn’t have been lying!” Lord Lannister bellowed. “How else to explain the princess fucking the queen?”

The room went deathly silent.

Alicent’s heart dropped into her stomach, and it was all that she could do not to look over at Rhaenyra. This was exactly what she’d been afraid of. She forced herself to keep a hold of her knife and fork, knowing that dropping them would draw even more unnecessary attention. She almost snorted aloud at the absurd thought. More unnecessary attention. As if such were even possible. The entirety of the great hall was already staring at her, Rhaenyra, the king, and Lord Lannister.

At last, the king broke the silence. “What did you just say, Lord Lannister?” His voice was harder and colder than Alicent could ever remember hearing it.

But Lord Lannister must not have heard the change in the king’s voice, for he did not hesitate to answer. “The princess is fucking the queen, Your Grace.”

If possible, the silence somehow grew as everyone seemed to collectively hold their breath.

Slowly, oh so slowly, the king rose to his feet, expression stormy. “Who is responsible for this scurrilous gossip?” he demanded. “You tell me, Lord Lannister, where did you hear this lie?”

Lord Lannister’s eyebrows slowly drew together in confusion, and Alicent could practically see the drink swimming in his eyes. “I do not understand, Your Grace—”

“Who spoke these lies to you?” Viserys thundered, causing those nearby—Alicent included—to flinch. She couldn’t remember ever hearing the king so incensed before, and by the startled expressions of those seated in the hall, no one else could either. “Where did you hear such vile calumnies?”

For a long moment, Lord Lannister could only stare at the king, and Alicent silently prayed that the man had regained a modicum of sense and would retract his earlier words, or pretend that they’d been no more than a crude and poor attempt at humor.

But she should have known better than to expect anything approaching sense from Jason Lannister.

“Your Grace, anyone with eyes can see. Just look at them.” Lord Lannister pointed at her. More specifically, he pointed at the marks scattered about her throat.

Alicent had to force herself to not instinctively cover her neck, knowing that it would be seen as confirmation of Lord Lannister’s words.

Rhaenyra suddenly slammed her hands down onto the table, rising to her feet with all the fury of the dragon lords of Old Valyria. “How dare you, Lord Jason? How dare you cast such aspersions upon mine and the queen’s honor?” She turned to the king, eyes blazing with righteous indignation. “Your Grace, Queen Alicent is your wife. I am your heir. Lord Jason’s insinuations are the highest of treasons. Such vile accusations cannot go unanswered.”

For a terrifying moment, Alicent feared that her wife had overplayed her anger, that the king would see through her words to the truth they concealed.

But it seemed that Viserys—as ever—would suffer no insult to his beloved daughter. With a wave of his hand, he ordered, “Guards, remove Lord Lannister from the Keep at once. He is no longer welcome in King’s Landing.”

Ser Harrold was the first to reach Lord Lannister, seizing him by the arm and dragging him from his chair and out of the great hall.

The king’s gaze swept over those who remained, his voice stronger than Alicent had heard it in years. “And let it be known, anyone whose tongue dares to question the honor of Princess Rhaenyra or Queen Alicent should have it removed.”

No one said a word.

As Rhaenyra sat back down, she gave the king’s good arm a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Father.”

And when Viserys smiled at her, it was with the same warmth that Alicent could remember seeing him offer Queen Aemma. “Of course, My Dear. I would never allow such vile gossip to taint your reputation. Especially not gossip as ludicrous as what Jason Lannister was spewing.”

The smile that Rhaenyra gave him in return was equally warm, but Alicent noticed how it didn’t quite reach her wife’s eyes. “Alicent and I are very grateful to you.”

Confusion briefly flashed across the king’s face, but then he nodded. “Yes. Of course.” Retaking his own seat, he turned to Alicent and clasped her hand in his. “I would never allow such absurd rumors to follow either of you.” Releasing her hand, he reached up and patted her cheek, as he once had when she was a little girl in need of comfort.

Alicent’s smile of gratitude was only somewhat forced. While she was grateful to him for so decisively quieting whatever rumors about her and Rhaenyra that had managed to catch people’s ears, the entire incident had been utterly humiliating. She knew that she ought to kiss his cheek, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Not with Rhaenyra’s eyes upon her. So she politely dipped her head instead. “Thank you, Husband, for defending my honor.”

∞

Alicent yawned as she burrowed into her wife’s warmth, wrapping an arm around her waist. “You’re lucky,” she mumbled.

She felt as much as heard Rhaenyra’s quiet laugh. “To have you in my arms? Yes. I would agree that I am very lucky.”

“You’re lucky the king is so willfully blind.” Alicent tilted her head slightly to peer up at her wife, though it was hard to make out her face in the shadows of her darkened bedchamber. “You do realize how horribly all of that could have gone, yes?”

Rhaenyra kissed her forehead in response. “I would burn the Seven Kingdoms to ashes before I allowed harm to befall you, Ali. You or our children.”

The words probably shouldn’t have made Alicent’s heart flutter, but they did all the same. “That would likely cause more problems than it would solve, Nyra.”

“Mayhap.” Rhaenyra kissed her softly. “But I would do anything for you, My Darling Wife.”

And Alicent couldn’t help but smile in response. “And I you, My Love.” She paused, eyes narrowing slightly when she felt one of her wife’s hands begin to slide up towards her breast. “No, Nyra.” She gently batted her wife’s questing hand away. “I told you, you’re not allowed to bed me until the marks fade.”

Rhaenyra pouted in response. “But—”

“And if you ever leave marks like this again, you’ll be sleeping alone for a moon.”

The horrified squeak her wife made in response forced Alicent to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

Leaning closer, Rhaenyra brushed the tip of her nose against Alicent’s. “Alicent, I swear, by all the gods, that I will never leave marks on your neck again.” She sounded nearly as solemn as she had when she’d asked Alicent to marry her.

“Good.” Alicent pecked her lips, one hand coming up to cup her wife’s cheek. “I love you, Nyra.”

Rhaenyra beamed in response, squeezing her tight. “I love you, too, Ali.”