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1. The pendant
It started, as many things do, with a gift.
While it wasn’t the first time that Lady Alicent Hightower was the recipient of a gift from her girlfriend, and not even since knowing she was Crown Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, this one felt... different.
It was different, in truth, from all previous gifts – including the expensive dress and shoes for the previous night’s dinner, which she was sure had a price tag that would give her entire family heart attacks. Clothes were one thing, and Rhaenyra had given her clothes enough times before to know it was half because she just sometimes saw something and decided it was made for her, half some sort of pride at so accurately knowing her tastes.
(And also, most times, a wish to see her wearing something in particular.)
Jewelry was another matter, and one they hadn’t faced while she thought she was dating a minor cousin of House Belaerys – jewels of any sort demonstrated a possessiveness that hadn’t been part of their relationship yet, something they hadn’t even discussed, and a necklace of the most expensive metal in the world, engraved with the symbol of her girlfriend’s House?
The silence was almost deafening as Alicent considered the piece, resting on a bed of red velvet almost identical in color to last night’s dress. Next to her, Rhaenyra shifted.
“My love?”
Gifting a necklace engraved with a House symbol was tantamount to claiming possession over the person receiving it. Especially coming from the heir apparent of said House.
And Alicent wasn’t sure she liked the idea of belonging, not in that way, not when there was such a difference in their social statuses and political power and economic means – something made even worse by the fact that most of their relationship so far had been with Alicent under the impression that they were near equals while Rhaenyra was perfectly aware that such was not the case.
Still. Rhaenyra had never given her the impression that she would be the sort to just do this without it being Alicent’s wish, so perhaps there was something she was missing here. There had to be, and surely she would cause no offense by asking.
(And if she did... then their relationship was not what she thought it was.)
“What does this mean?”
“What is it that confuses you?” Rhaenyra asked in turn, her tone making it clear she was genuinely seeking clarification about the meaning of Alicent’s question.
Alicent spent a moment considering how to phrase this so that there would be no misunderstandings. “In Westeros, one partner or spouse wearing the other’s House symbol means they belong to the one born to that House. To my culture, it means you’re claiming me as yours. What does this mean for you?”
She looked up in time to see a combination of emotions pass through Rhaenyra’s face, from confusion to understanding to something soft, before the corner of her mouth lifted in a barely there smile.
“Apparently this is one of those cultural differences I must give you background on, so I ask that you bear with me,” she said. “You know Valyria still operates mostly with arranged marriages, yes?”
Alicent nodded. This side of the world sparingly used betrothals for royalty and some noble families, and even then there was usually input from the couple – the Hightowers, for instance, only used them to formalize engagements their members entered on their own with partners of their choosing.
From what she’d gleaned during her relationship with Rhaenyra, the opposite was true for Valyria, where noble families (especially dragonlords) usually arranged matches for at least their main line members, either betrothing them to each other to keep their wealth in the family or using the hands of their children to form alliances and shuffle wealth around. This tendency was part of why she’d been confused that Rhaenyra wasn’t betrothed yet when she first learnt her identity, especially when she was told that an attempt had been made when she was a toddler.
She was grateful for it, of course, but Emperor Viserys’ allowance for his heir apparent to make her own match even to someone of Alicent’s status was odd by Valyrian standards – although, by Rhaenyra’s own recollections, it seemed that such was slowly becoming fashionable, as many things did when the powerful did novel things.
“As I’m sure you’re already aware, courtship comes with a set of rules to obey so that propriety is always observed. I’m unsure how it works here in Westeros, but for us, there are also... not rules, perhaps, but... means to convey different messages during the process, to your partner, your families and society.”
“This pendant is a message, then?” Alicent guessed.
Her girlfriend nodded. “Yesterday’s jewelry was expected of me, as Valyrian custom demands I provide you with symbols of my House for formal events – that, for us, was about sociopolitical belonging. Not claiming, I wouldn’t do that unless it was what you wanted,” Alicent very decidedly did not think about that possibility, “but more about showing that we are courting seriously. Had I not gotten you the dress and the jewelry, Valyria would’ve seen our relationship as... well, us fooling around, really. No one back home would have thought that I am serious about you, and that is not a message I would ever think to give about you.
“This, though?” she continued, fingers brushing the heads of the dragon pendant where it sat in a bed of velvet between them. “Gifting you a piece of Valyrian steel jewelry engraved with the symbol of my House, one for you to use daily? This is me telling everyone that you hold my heart. Valyria will look at this and know that I will have no one but you.”
Although it had been weeks since Rhaenyra first confessed the depth of her feelings, Alicent still found herself at a loss for words when faced with this intense sincerity, especially now that it was accompanied by what, to Valyrian culture, was a token of her feelings.
She considered Rhaenyra for a moment before she smiled. “How long have you been holding that in?” she teased.
“You have no idea.”
Alicent exhaled a laugh and turned around. “Help me?” she asked, holding her hair up and out of the way.
“Gladly,” her girlfriend breathed out.
They were silent while Rhaenyra grabbed the pendant and gently clasped it around Alicent’s neck. Having worn Valyrian steel the previous night, she knew to expect its initial coldness, and didn’t even twitch when it touched her skin. She did, however, shudder when Rhaenyra pressed her lips against the back of her neck above the thin chain, slowly, reverently, like she couldn’t believe Alicent was there with her – that she’d accepted the truth about Rhaenyra, her feelings, the implications of being with her.
Her girlfriend was an unrepentant romantic, desperately wistful for a love that burned brightly enough to outshine the sun. The thought that she saw that love in Alicent was humbling and terrifying and invigorating in equal parts.
“Is this a family heirloom too?” she asked, half joking, instead of trying to give voice to the swirling thoughts in her head and risking choking up.
Rhaenyra’s arms sneaked around her waist and pulled her closer, thighs bracketing her hips and face burying itself in her neck. “It is,” she admitted after a long silence. “Empress Rhaena was the last to take it out of the vaults.”
Empress Rhaena, Alicent knew, was a bit of a favorite of Rhaenyra’s – eldest niece of Emperor Maegor II, she’d unexpectedly found herself in direct line to the throne when her uncle died childless two years into his reign and her grandfather Aegon inherited the throne from his son, something that had endlessly confused Alicent as a child first learning her histories. Eventually, Rhaena had risen to the throne, quickly facing an economic crisis that swept through the entire world and, amongst other things, toppled the Gardener dynasty in the Reach but in Valyria simply was a way for the new Empress to prove herself.
But that wasn’t the reason she was one of her girlfriend’s favorite Targaryen monarchs. No, Rhaenyra’s admiration came from Rhaena’s personal life, as her great-great-aunt was the second Targaryen monarch who openly favored their own sex and married according to said inclination, with the first being Rhaena’s great-aunt Empress Visenya, another of Rhaenyra’s favorites.
Empress Rhaena’s love story was also one that had inspired endless stories and songs in both sides of the Narrow Sea, her wife being a half-Westerosi dragonlady from a very minor branch of House Mataeryon.
The fact that Rhaenyra had given her the necklace last worn by Imperial Consort Elissa Farman...
“Who else?” she asked softly.
Rhaenyra breathed in. “Alyssa I commissioned it for her paramour, Dragonlady Elaena Maelarys.”
Alicent didn’t know whether she should be amused. “It was made for a paramour?”
“If it helps, same-sex marriages were not legal at the time, and their husbands were also paramours. After their time, Aegon I took it from the Targaryen vaults for his sister-wife Daena, and later Visenya II gave it to her sister-wife Rhaenys. All couples bound by this pendant were together for decades, their relationship only interrupted by death, and even then the surviving partner never took another. I... when I think about us, that is what I want – a lifetime. And even that might not be enough.”
Alicent understood, then, that Rhaenyra wasn’t giving her simply an expensive pendant. She was giving her a tangible manifestation of her hopes and dreams, of the love she felt and the life she wished for them. This was Rhaenyra metaphorically handing Alicent her entire heart.
How could she do anything, then, but love her in turn?
~~~~~o~~~~~
2. The driver
“You can’t expect me to be okay with this.”
Her girlfriend blinked, possibly because that was the first thing Alicent said when she opened the door to the apartment, but she dutifully stepped to the side for Alicent to get in and closed the door behind her. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, my love.”
“Valarr just drove me up here from the Sept.”
“Well, driving people is his job.”
“Why?”
Rhaenyra looked genuinely confused. “Because he likes to drive?”
“Why did he drive me up from the Sept.”
“Oh, well, I said you could use the car, didn’t I?”
“I thought you were joking.”
“I would never, but I fail to see why it’s a problem.”
“He’s your driver.”
“And I barely use the car. I was serious when I said Valarr would appreciate it – the gods know he must get bored waiting around for me to call him.”
Alicent stared at her. “Did you call him to pick me up today?”
“I didn’t, actually.”
So either Valarr was a psychic or... “It was Aegor or Maelys, wasn’t it?” Rhaenyra’s expression said she didn’t want to throw Alicent’s bodyguards under the metaphorical bus but didn’t see a way to avoid it without lying. It was amazing how expressive she could be for someone raised to keep her emotions in check. “Why would they do that?”
“Well, the Sept you go to is somewhat far from campus and members of the Imperial Guard get... twitchy about their charges being out in the open too much – the only reason I could convince them and Valarr I could walk to campus was because no one knew who I am, and believe me, it took a lot of effort. They probably just didn’t want you to take public transportation back, especially given the time.”
Despite herself, Alicent looked out the window at the darkening sky. She sighed. “So, what you’re saying is that I should expect to never be able to walk anywhere again?”
“Not anywhere that’s farther than a ten-minute walk, probably,” Rhaenyra replied, sounding apologetic.
“And you can’t convince them to let me walk and take the bus?”
Rhaenyra hesitated, then sighed. “Even if I could, I... wouldn’t try. Now that it is known who I am, that puts you in danger by association. It’s easier for Aegor and Maelys to keep you safe if Valarr drives you around. Besides, it would be badly seen by Valyria if my own girlfriend had to use public transportation when I have the means to keep a car with its own dedicated driver.”
That quieted Alicent’s protests. Part of their relationship since learning who Rhaenyra was consisted of them finding a balance between Valyrian expectations and Westerosi freedoms, but sometimes, like now, Valyrian expectations couldn’t be negotiated with – especially when it involved Alicent’s safety, something that Rhaenyra would never in a million years trade with.
(She hadn’t been too thrilled about the bodyguards either, but that had still been easier to accept than most of the gifts she’d received since learning who her girlfriend was.)
Alicent sighed. This was just Rhaenyra being protective, and her culture expecting her to be.
How could she do anything but accept that protection?
~~~~~o~~~~~
3. The ring
“Ñuha jorrāeliarzys?”
It took an embarrassingly large amount of self-control for her to contain her reaction at the term, which was the highest endearment Valyrians could bestow on their partners. They’d recently discovered she had a thing for her girlfriend talking in her native language, but these words in particular... well.
Her own mortifying reaction to the words aside, she did notice that Rhaenyra sounded hesitant, as if she couldn’t understand Alicent being very justifiably upset with her for springing this on her. Especially after the night they’d shared together – not the first time they’d slept on the same bed, but definitely the first time that actually sleeping had been, at most, a tertiary concern.
(She spared a moment to mourn the fact that she wasn’t going to get a repeat of last night, but she was quickly cured of it with one look at Rhaenyra’s confused expression. The audacity. Alicent was going to kill the love of her life and she wasn’t even going to be too sad about it.)
“Darling.”
Suddenly, Rhaenyra looked a bit lost – understandable, since for the last moon or so Alicent had started referring to her exclusively as my love, an epithet that she most definitely didn’t deserve at the moment.
Not after just randomly giving her a ring of all things, dark Valyrian steel with far too many rubies to not be obscenely expensive, the morning after they made love for the first time.
She took a deep breath, in, out, and reminded herself that Valyrians could be frankly ridiculous by Westerosi standards, and their Crown Princess most of all.
Alicent knew that the first thing that would come to most people’s minds, especially with the timing of this gift, had to be wrong, knew that Rhaenyra Targaryen wasn’t the sort to... well, reward intimacy, especially from someone she loved, but so help her gods if she didn’t get a satisfactory explanation...
“What does this mean?”
The confusion cleared from Rhaenyra’s expression, even though Alicent was reasonably sure she couldn’t guess at the whole reason for her upset. “It is not an engagement ring.”
Alicent had to stop herself from asking what was the engagement ring even going to look like, if this wasn’t it. She had a feeling she wasn’t ready to know the lengths her imperial heir girlfriend would go to when the time came.
“I meant to give this to you yesterday and, well, given everything, I... forgot.”
Rhaenyra looked a bit sheepish as she said this, but Alicent felt herself flush at the brief flash of memory as her body remembered what everything meant.
“This is just a gift for our anniversary then?”
“Just that,” Rhaenyra assured her. “I know it’s not exactly for everyday use, but I’ve been thinking of gifting you a formal piece for a while. Muña agreed this ring would serve, as it matches well with most of the dresses you will wear for your introduction to Court.”
An event Alicent was decidedly not thinking about just yet. They were due to leave Blackport at the end of the week, and she was already panicking at the prospect of being introduced to the Imperial Court of Valyria as the girlfriend of the heir to the throne.
She looked at the ring, gave herself a moment to admire the craftsmanship now that she knew it wasn’t a proposal, and asked the same thing she’d inquired in one way or another with every previous piece of jewelry Rhaenyra had offered – be that temporarily or permanently.
“Is it an heirloom?”
Rhaenyra hummed, shifting so she could more comfortably rest on her elbow, moving her free hand to rest on Alicent’s sheet-covered thigh.
“It is a... the direct translation of the name would be Song-of-Flame. They harken back to the Age of Dragons, when we soared the skies with them and lived surrounded by their magic. Each of these rings was crafted upon the hatching of a dragon and tied to them, so that part of claiming a dragon was claiming their ring. Nowadays, it is a way for us to show we belong to someone. Essentially” she added, sounding and looking a bit cheeky, “I am the dragon, and you are the rider claiming me.”
Alicent choked and slapped her shoulder. “Rhaenyra!”
Her girlfriend just laughed and fell back against the pillows, tugging Alicent down alongside her so that they were laying down together, pressed chest to chest. She was definitely going to kill her.
It took a truly impressive amount of time for Rhaenyra to calm down, but eventually her chuckles subsided, and she leaned forward to press her lips to that spot beneath Alicent’s ear which they discovered last night made her shudder. “My apologies, ñuha jorrāeliarzys. No more jokes of the sort, I promise.”
Alicent sighed, unable to remain annoyed any longer, not when Rhaenyra’s hand was trailing down her back and her lips were still teasing that sensitive spot. “Fine, I suppose I can forgive you.”
Alicent felt Rhaenyra’s lips curved up where they rested against her skin.
“I’m assuming it’s also not related to... last night, is it?”
“Completely coincidental timing, I swear. I sent for it three weeks ago.”
And because she was invested in history and loved to hear Rhaenyra talk about her family’s vastly chronicled one, she just had to ask, “Which dragon was it tied to?”
Her girlfriend grew quiet as she drew back to look down at the ring. “Syrax,” she said softly, “the Golden Lady, mount of Dragonlady Rhaenyra Targaryen and Empress Rhaenyra I.”
Alicent made no effort to stop herself from leaning forward to kiss her girlfriend, who she knew idolized her namesakes and dreamed of seeing their dragon in all its living glory – and she knew that, if she were to be able to have any dragon in history, she would only wish for a chance to attempt to bond with Syrax.
That she would gift her with this ring, with all the history and significance it carried... if the pendant had been Rhaenyra giving Alicent her heart, this was handing over her very soul.
How could she do anything but determine to do the same?
~~~~~o~~~~~
4. The tiara
“I can’t believe you.”
Her girlfriend glanced up from the papers she was reviewing on her desk with a puzzled expression, possibly both at Alicent’s abrupt entrance and her words. The bodyguard who’d just opened the door for Alicent (either Aurion or Aerion, one of Rhaenyra’s twin bodyguards who she still couldn’t tell apart) gave one look at his charge before he swiftly closed the door to the study.
Once the door was closed, Rhaenyra stood up, walked around the desk and guided Alicent over to the sitting area.
“Alright, what did I do now?” she asked as they sat down.
“The stuff you sent to our rooms, care to explain?”
“Oh,” Rhaenyra relaxed. “It’s for your introduction tomorrow night.”
“Yes, I figured. You told me about the dresses and the shoes, but you didn’t tell me about the jewelry!”
Her girlfriend blinked, as if she couldn’t understand why Alicent would be upset at being handed over pieces she’d seen and admired just the previous morning during their tour of the West Gallery, where many belongings of previous members of House Targaryen were displayed for the admiration of the few people lucky enough (or influential enough) to be allowed in that area of the Palace. And yes, Alicent had already worn crown jewels, and she outright owned two, but not this sort.
The necklace, bracelets and earrings she could deal with, even though they were far more extravagant and obviously expensive than anything she had ever even touched, including the crown jewels in her possession. The other one? That was harder to wrap her mind around – not to mention the additional feature.
Rhaenyra’s posture loosened. “I asked muña which set would be best and she strongly suggested that one, ñuha jorrāeliarzys.”
Despite herself, Alicent felt most of her annoyance slip away. Her goodmother had been nothing but kind to her the few times they’d interacted since their arrival, but they didn’t know each other yet, which meant both that Alicent couldn’t yet express her discomfort at the jewelry and that Rhaenyra’s mother couldn’t possibly know on her own.
“I’m sure there must have been something else that was serviceable that doesn’t usually reside in the West Gallery, or at least something that doesn’t come with its own bodyguard,” she said, most definitely not complaining.
Rhaenyra’s lips twitched. “Perhaps,” she conceded, “but muña mentioned it would best match your outfit and she’s known to have excellent taste. Besides, it will send a message to the Court.”
“What message?” Alicent asked.
“That you are beloved and worthy of my attention,” was the reply, so serious that she couldn’t help but to straighten in her seat. “I know you can’t yet fluently read the glyphs, but did something call your attention yesterday?”
Alicent frowned, trying to recall the golden plaque next to the display case. “I identified the glyphs for Targaryen, and the two glyphs right before were very similar to your name, but not much else.”
“That set has only been worn by one person before,” Rhaenyra explained, her attention wandering to Alicent’s hand in hers. “Visenya II commissioned it as a betrothal gift for her sister.”
She had studied Imperial Consort Rhaenys Targaryen, wife to her elder siblings Visenya and Aegon, in an elective about Valyrian literature, as the love between the three had inspired many songs and poems, including one that was considered the pinnacle of Valyrian ballads of its period.
That the set she was being loaned for her introduction had belonged to her... well, she could understand how it would send a message, especially since no one else had worn it after her death.
“It’s that important?”
Rhaenyra looked back up at her. “It will make your acceptance by the Court easier, certainly. Not that they will reject you if you don’t wear it,” she hastened to add, “not with kepa approving, but it will help the more... reticent members of Court welcome you if they see that you are beloved enough to be loaned Rhaenys’s jewels.”
Alicent grimaced. Right. Because she was an outsider that brought nothing to House Targaryen – she was just the second child of a second child of a mid-ranked House in the Reach, dating the heir to the Valyrian Empire. Thank the gods they wouldn’t question their Emperor’s approval of her, but that didn’t mean they would extend their own approval or even acceptance of her at the side of their future Empress.
So, yes, unfortunately, she could understand why it was important that she wear this set of jewelry that came with its own bodyguard.
She exhaled. “Fine. I can see that it’s necessary, so I’ll wear them. But, my love, a little warning next time you or anyone else wants me to wear something that extravagant?”
Rhaenyra, who had relaxed at the endearment, pressed her lips to Alicent’s knuckles before bringing their joined hands to press against her heart. “I promise, ñuha jorrāeliarzys.”
Mollified, Alicent leaned forward to kiss her girlfriend. She was just trying to make Alicent’s entrance into her world a little easier.
How could she do anything but love her for it?
~~~~~o~~~~~
5. The jet
“Rhaenyra Targaryen, I will actually murder you.”
Her girlfriend, by now used to Alicent’s very reasonable reactions to her extravagant gifts, had the nerve to look unperturbed by the threat – if anything, she seemed confused. Behind them, their bodyguards stood in silence, though Alicent was certain they were amused.
“It’s just a jet,” Rhaenyra said.
Alicent thought calling the aircraft in front of them just a jet was awfully simplistic. The plane was almost as big as the one that had carried them from Blackport all the way to Valyria, white with black and red detailing on its lower half and the crest of House Targaryen proudly painted on the vertical stabilizer. It looked newer, however, as if its only voyage had been from the Empire to them – which wouldn’t surprise Alicent at all, as a matter of fact.
“Ñuha jorrāeliarzys, I don’t understand. You said you missed your family.”
“What does that have to do with this?” Alicent demanded, brandishing the folder near her girlfriend’s face.
A folder that contained paperwork which named her as primary user of this Imperial Air Force-issued aircraft.
“You can visit them whenever you’d like now,” Rhaenyra replied as if it was obvious, “or have it pick up your family to bring them over if that’s your preference.”
Alicent stared. “You’re giving me a plane because you wish for me to see my family whenever I want?”
“Well, yes.”
“My love...”
“I’m going to marry you one day,” Rhaenyra cut in gently, holding Alicent’s free hand and bringing it to her chest, while she caressed her cheek with the other. “Which means that eventually we’ll be moving full time to Valyria, and when that happens, I want you to be able to bring your family over without having to depend on us. Giving you a jet is the simplest way to ensure that.”
“This is your people’s coin you’re spending on me and my family, and we’re not talking about a small amount.”
“Actually,” Rhaenyra said slowly, “although the Imperial Air Force owns this jet, the coin needed for its upkeep and use will come from my personal funds, which are considerable enough to easily afford this. Gifts and inheritances, mostly,” she explained at Alicent’s wide-eyed look, “as well as my personal income as a working imperial, and all the revenue from my businesses and properties.”
“That’s still a lot of money, my love.”
“I know we haven’t exactly discussed finances, but... even with my lifestyle, I’ve more coin than I know what to do with, and every moon I get even more. To me, this is pocket change, but to you it means getting to see your family more often. Please let me do this for you, ñuha jorrāeliarzys.”
Alicent studied her girlfriend’s face. There was not a hint of doubt there, only the earnest desire to care for Alicent’s every need that characterized this exceptional woman she was in love with. This was an unconventional way to see to this need, to be sure, but Rhaenyra Targaryen was the Crown Princess of the largest and most powerful nation in the world – her upbringing probably meant she saw this sort of thing as a normal, expected way to care for a partner. She’d certainly heard enough stories about her family being extremely free with their money to know gift giving was a typical way for them to express their love.
(Not that it was the only one, but there was no denying that it was prominent. And Rhaenyra had been very young when Crown Prince Aemon Targaryen had given her one of his prized puppies as an act of love, which had undoubtedly left an impression.)
She sighed. Rhaenyra was spending an absurd amount of money, but it was one of the best ways she knew to express her love, and Alicent was one of the people lucky enough to be loved by her.
How could she be anything but grateful for it?
~~~~~o~~~~~
+1. The freakout
Lady Alicent Hightower had been knowingly dating the heir to the throne of Valyria for nearly half a year by the time her twenty-fourth nameday rolled around. This timing is relevant because it meant she’d had some time to get somewhat used to extravagant gifts, especially since her introduction to the Empire’s nobility, an event that brought her to the attention of hundreds eager to capture the favor of the future Imperial Consort. Of course, the most extravagant gifts she’d received came from her girlfriend (who saw most things as simple pocket change to make Alicent happy with) and other Targaryens, but that’s not to say the courtiers were slouches in that department.
(Dragonlady Daenora Qoherys, one of her girlfriend’s many cousins, had gifted Alicent a fully staffed and equipped manse in Volantis to celebrate her introduction. When she tried to protest, she’d waved it off while casually mentioning she had three others in the city and that specific manse had been part of her father Prince Gaemon’s dowry when he married the then-Lady Daena Qoherys, so it was no hardship to her.
Alicent interpreted that as a wish to return the manse to House Targaryen as part of the Valyrian custom of shuffling wealth around like pieces in a board. When asked, Rhaenyra had admitted it was likely one part of her cousin’s intention.)
So yes, she was slowly starting to accept the material aspect of dating a woman who was richer than the gods. The fact that she’d been so quick to accept and begin to use the private jet (even if she still sometimes panicked about the fact that she basically owned a plane) was proof enough of her slow acclimatization.
This, however? This was so far past the realm of too much that it wasn’t remotely funny.
“You’re joking.”
Her girlfriend had that look on her face that showed when she was confused by Alicent and was pondering the best way to say it without offending her.
“There’s no way you’re being serious.”
Rhaenyra opened her mouth.
“Please tell me this is a joke.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“This isn’t something that you just give someone!”
“It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Not that big– it’s an island, Rhaenyra! An entire piece of land with a fully staffed manse!”
“Well, it would hardly be polite to give you an island without a manse to enjoy it, or a manse without a staff to take care of it,” her girlfriend defended, as if this chain made everything better. “I already told you this when mandia Daenora gave you the Volantis manse.”
“That manse used to be a Targaryen property and you yourself admitted it was mostly to return it to your family, and this one comes with an entire island!”
“Dragontide really isn’t that big.”
“It’s still an island!”
“Would it help if I told you that the alternative was Dragon’s Rock?”
Alicent paused. How was this her life that it was a legitimate question– “Please tell me this island is smaller.”
“Less than half the size,” Rhaenyra promised, “and the only people who live there full time are staff. The Rock has a village that’s administered from the manse.”
Well, at least she wasn’t responsible for a village. But still, this was ridiculous and Alicent should be forgiven for reacting strongly to it.
(In fact, she thought she was being calm for how she really needed to react to this latest absurdity sprung on her.)
“Why even give me an island?” Alicent asked, and although she would’ve been very justified had it been the case her tone was not a whine thank you very much.
“Well, it’s your nameday,” Rhaenyra replied.
“You mean to tell me this is normal behavior?”
“Normal? This is tame – it could have been worse.”
“Worse how?” Alicent asked, already despairing of this ridiculous family she was tying herself to through dating its future head.
Rhaenyra hesitated. “Kekepa gave me Dragonstone for my tenth nameday.”
That– honestly wasn’t half as surprising as it should’ve been. Baelon III Targaryen, Prince of Volantis, was one of the most ridiculous members of his family, as befit the former head of the Valyrian Empire. Gifting his granddaughter an island that contained some three villages and a large keep (and for her tenth nameday at that) was almost predictable of the man.
On the other end of the spectrum, the Imperial Consort was more or less sensible as far as imperials went, which still made her ridiculous to Alicent’s standards but preferable to the overly extravagant tendencies of the rest of her relatives – especially her eldest daughter.
(Even little Prince Daeron, newly five namedays old, was getting used to expensive gifts – he’d given Alicent a golden bracelet that was probably worth as much as a small car and been very proud to tell her he’d commissioned it with his allowance. That a little boy had an allowance big enough for it was, frankly, ridiculous.)
But Dragonstone...
Alicent sighed. She was completely, indubitably in love with Rhaenyra Targaryen, but there was no denying their different upbringings, cultures and statuses made for some confusing moments.
“My love, this is the fourth manse I’ve been given in the last six moons. What do I need four manses for?” Rhaenyra bit her lip, looking suddenly uncertain. “Is this another cultural difference?”
“... Somewhat. It’s... I know this doesn’t technically apply to this manse, but the three others? You did notice they were all given to you by my cousins, right? As well as some various other large gifts?”
“Yes, so?”
“So...” Rhaenyra shifted. “They are trying to... please don’t get mad about this.”
Alicent really didn’t like the sound of that. “Don’t get mad about what?”
“You know there were a few... quiet doubts about your suitability for a Perzys Dārilaros from some members of the nobility. Not disapproval, they wouldn’t dare with kepa himself approving, but... my family really likes you and they love how happy you make me, so the gifts are their way of showing their support by raising the wealth you bring to our match.”
She knew some nobles, the snobbier ones who’d wanted Rhaenyra to marry their daughters, hadn’t been too happy to see their Crown Princess bring someone like Alicent to be essentially introduced as her future consort, and she knew Rhaenyra’s relatives had loudly expressed their disagreement with them – Princess Alysanne, Dragonlady Daenora and Dragonlord Daemion had been chief in their support of their relationship, and now that she thought about it, the other properties had been gifts from them.
So that explained the first three. Dragontide, however... “That doesn’t explain why you are giving me a manse.”
“Because I wanted to give you the island, and I did say it wouldn’t have been polite to give you one without a manse to stay in while you’re there.”
“Fine, why are you giving me an island then?”
“Because you like the beach and I wanted to spoil you.”
Alicent sighed, then she laughed. Well, at least she was being honest.
Frankly, spoiling her was most of the reason Rhaenyra had been giving her gifts their entire relationship, even before she knew she was the Crown Princess of Valyria. The revelation of her true identity had only been an excuse for Rhaenyra to up the value and frequency of the gifts, not to start giving them, and her relatives had taken their introduction as their own excuse to shower her with tokens of their appreciation – from the baby of the family all the way up to the Emperor himself.
The Targaryens had long since turned gift giving down to an art, especially within the confines of the rules and protocols of their culture, and they had instilled that art within each of their children for centuries.
Alicent was dating the heir of that family, and she loved her too much to ever let her go.
She was just going to have to get used to graciously accepting whatever extravagant gift came her way.