Chapter Text
The night of Laena’s funeral had turned into a disaster. Albeit a disaster that was waiting to happen. Family had turned against family, and there was now a clear divide amongst the Targaryens. The Green’s and The Blacks.
When Rhaenyra had heard the news that a brawl had broken out amongst the children, she had almost sprinted to find her boys. When she had rushed through those doors, and saw Jace and Luke, both with blood running down their faces, her heart had stuttered. Though, she must admit, the worst injury of the night was that of her half-brother, Aemond, who had a gruesome slash that went across his left eye.
When asked what happened, the children’s voices overlapped each other, vaguely making out a story of a stolen dragon, punches and kicks thrown, a rock to the head and a knife to the eye.
Looking across the room, Rhaenyra could see that Alicent was visibly enraged, silent tears running from her eyes. And a part, a small childish part of her, wants to run over and comfort her. It was stupid, after all these years, after all the betrayal and heartbreak, she still loved her. Even after Alicent had silently declared war at her betrothal feast, Rhaenyra still loved her. When she was made to walk to the other side of the Red Keep, her legs weak and filled with the pain of her labor, she still loved Alicent. No matter how hard she had tried, that love never dwindled.
Her father had yelled for silence, and Rhaenyra felt a small tug to her skirt. Kneeling down, she looks questionably at her boys, and Jace leans in to whisper to her.
“He called us bastards.”
Now it was Rhaenyra who was filled with rage. With Luke’s hand grasped firmly in hers, she stood. Luke was always the more sensitive brother, sweet and innocent. And if Rhaenyra had her way, she would protect from this cruel world forever. Jace, taking after his mother, seemed to think the same thing, as he held a protective arm around Luke.
“Aemond.” Her father limped to the young boy, “I will have the truth of what happened. Now.”
Aemond remained silent as Viserys scowled at him.
“What else is there to hear?” Alicent jumps to her son’s defense, “Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible.”
“It was a regrettable accident.” Rhaenyra says.
“Accident?” Alicent scoffs, and Rhaenyra’s heart breaks even more at the pain in her eyes. “The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush. He meant to kill my son.”
“It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves.” Rhaenyra snaps loudly. Luke would never mean to harm anyone intentionally. As much as Alicent would wish it, Lucerys could barely hurt a fly, never mind try and kill his uncle. “Vile insults were levied against them.”
Viserys’s head picks up at that, “What insults?”
Rhaenyra pauses, “The legitimacy of my sons’ birth was put loudly to question.”
“What?” Viserys frowns.
“He called us bastards.” Jace, ever her brave boy, spoke up.
And there it was. Where there was once whispers, they were now loud and clear. The heirs' sons, the future king and lord of the tides, have been called illegitimate.
“My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace.” Rhaenyra grabs her father’s attention. “This is the highest of treasons. Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders.”
And as soon as she says it, she hates herself for it, as Aemond looks at her with pain and betrayal on his mutilated face. Despite what many may think, she holds no ill-will to her siblings. She never wished to see them harmed, they are her blood. And, despite the Targaryen looks, they are of Alicent’s blood.
Rhaenyra does her best to have apologetic eyes directed at her brother, as her Father looks angrily at the boy.
“Over an insult?” Alicent asks, tears in her eyes. “My son has lost an eye.” And she looks at Rhaenyra with hurt.
But, she stands tall, despite her wish to fold. She had to protect her boys, it was her job. They came first, not her.
“You tell me, boy.” Viserys sneers, getting into Aemond’s face, “Where did you hear this lie?”
“The insult was training-yard bluster.” Alicent desperately tries to stop, “The lot of boys. It was nothing.”
Viserys ignores her. “Aemond… I asked you a question.”
All eyes are to the boy until Alicent redirects the topic again, “Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys’ father. Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter.”
However desperate, it does grab Viserys’s attention, “Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?”
But Rhaenyra doesn’t back down, “I do not know, Your Grace.” She pauses, “I.. could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk.” It was weak, she knew, but still true. She had gone out to walk, avoiding her uncle along the way. Daemon had tried to corner her, but she refused to listen to what he had to say.
“Entertaining his young squires, I would venture.” Alicents jabs, and Rhaenyra narrows her eyes at the woman. The man’s sister had just died, have a little respect. A small, breathy laugh could be heard, and Rhaenyra glared over at Criston Cole, the cunt that he was.
“Aemond…” The King’s focus is back on the boy, “look at me.” Aemond moves his haze off the floor to The King, “Your king demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?”
Aemond stays silent, but Rhaenyra can see how his one eye flickers over to Alicent, and her stomach drops. She knew there was a chance, but to have it confirmed… Did she truly mean so little to her? She can see Alicent start to panic, and it just confirms her suspicions even more. And a tight knot forms in her stomach.
Viserys also glances over to his wife, fury on his face. He looks back as Aemond answers the question, but everyone knows it not to be true. “It was Aegon.”
Aegon looks up with surprise and hurt, “Me?”
Viserys rounds on the boy, “And you, boy…” He steps close to him, “where did you hear such calumnies?”
Aegon stands tall, his shoulders tense and gaze anywhere but his father.
“Aegon!” Her brother flinches at the shout, and Rhaenyra feels even more guilty for bringing this on, “Tell me the truth of it!”
“We know, Father.”
Rhaenyra shuts her eyes at the words, her grasps on Luke’s hand becoming more firm.
“Everyone knows. Just look at them.”
All eyes now turn to the dark haired boys, who fidget under their gazes. Rhaenyra stands tall at the accusing eyes, unwilling to bend or back down. She holds Luke close to her, Jace standing just behind her and remains unflinching.
“This interminable infighting must cease!” Viserys snarls, “All of you! We are family! Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your king demands it!”
If only it were that simple, but now blood has been spilled. Apologies, nor good will, can bring back what is lost.
Viserys breathes heavily, limping with his cane past his family, presumably to go back to bed. That is, until Alicent stops him.
“That is insufficient.”
Viserys pauses, turning back to his wife, “Aemond has been damaged, permanently, my King.” She says, tears shining in her eyes, “‘good will’ cannot make him whole.”
“I know, Alicent.” Viserys sighs, looking worn out and defeated, way too much at his age, “But I cannot restore his eye.”
“No, because it’s been taken.” Alicent agrees.
“What would you have me do?” Viserys asks, eyes imploring into Alicent’s.
“There is a debt to be paid.” Alicent says, and Rhaenyra feels her gut drop. “I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return.”
Luke clings harder to her, and Rhaenyra returns it, her eyes scanning for anyone to make a move towards her and her son’s. Murmurs break out around them, that the Queen would ask for such a thing, to attack and maim a young boy.
“My dear wife…” Viserys starts, but Alicent cuts him off.
“He is your son, Viserys.” Her voice breaks as she says it. “Your blood.”
“Do not.. Allow your temper to guide your judgment.” Viserys warns her.
Alicent frowns at the denial, “If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will.” She turns to her favorite lap dog, “Ser Criston… bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.”
“Mother!” Lucerys screams, terrified. Rhaenyra pulls him behind her, putting her in front of her son’s. Should Criston make a move towards them, she will protect them.
“Alicent.” Viserys says, to try and deter any action being taken.
“He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son.” Alicent scowls.
“You will do no such thing.” Rhaenyra says, glaring at any who so much as twitch.
“Stay your hand.” Viserys orders Cole.
“No, you are sworn to me!” Alicent shouts, desperate, gaze locked on Criston Cole.
Eyes turn to the knight, waiting for him to so much as move. However, feeling all eyes on him, he fidgets, “As you protector, my Queen.” He denies the request, though Rhaenyra has a feeling he would have gladly followed it.
Alicent’s shoulders drop in defeat, and Viserys turns back to her, “Alicent, this matter… is finished. Do you understand?”
Alicent’s eyes are full of anger as she looks at the man.
Viserys then turns to everyone else in the room, “And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra’s sons… shall have it removed.”
“Thank you, Father.” Rhaenyra says, then turning and crouching down to her son’s.
What she doesn’t notice is Alicent eye the dagger on Viserys’s hip, she doesn’t notice the woman leap towards it and pull it out, then march her way towards where Rhaenyra’s son’s stand.
Shouts sound around them, and when Rhaenyra sees her son look so fearful at something behind her, she doesn’t think. She whirls around, not looking where the dagger is heading but blocks it’s path. She grabs Alicent's hand that was in the air, dagger ready to be swung down, as her other hand goes to her shoulder, blocking her from getting any closer.
Luke screams in terror, and that is the only sound Rhaenyra can hear as she focuses on Alicent. Alicent, who has tears streaming down her face, who has a crazed look in her eyes that Rhaenyra has never seen before. And it scares her, that she doesn’t recognise her old friend right now.
The two struggle with one another, Rhaenyra gaining the upper hand, Alicent grunting with all her strength to try and get past the woman.
“No.” Alicent grunts, doing her best to free herself. The two don’t notice that a circle has now formed around them.
“You’ve gone too far.” Rhaenyra says, eyes pleading at the other woman to stand down.
“I?” Alicent asks, “What have I done but what was expected of me?” Rhaenyra warily eyes the knife, which is getting a touch too close to her own eye. “Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law… “ Alicent’s voice is thick with tears as she talks, “While you flaunt and do as you please.”
“Alicent, let her go!” Viserys is heard in the background, yet his wife makes no move to stop her attack.
“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?” The auburn-haired woman continues to rant. Rhaenyra’s face has hardened as she listens to Alicent’s rambles. This woman thinks she doesn’t know sacrifice? She has lost plenty in becoming heir to the throne. Her mother, her brother who barely lived a day. Her father becoming a ghost of the man he once was, the woman she… loved marrying her father, as she is left alone in a nest full of vipers. Harwin, a man she had cared for, deeply, and who will always hold a place in her heart. She understands sacrifice. “It’s trampled under your pretty foot again.”
“Release the blade, Alicent.”
She does not, continuing to push against Rhaenyra’s strength.
“And now you take my son’s eye,” Alicent continues, and there is tears in her eyes as well as Rhaenyra’s, “And to even that, you feel entitled.”
“Exhausting, wasn’t it?” Rhaenyra grunts, struggling against Alicent’s pursuit, “Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness.” The words hurt her to say, but it is the truth. She is sick of Alicent hiding her choices behind her own sense of justice. “But now they see you as you are.” The last part is whispered, and Rhaenyra can see the fury ignite in Alicent’s eye, just before disaster strikes.
Alicent overpowers her, Rhaenyra’s arms falling against the new found strength, and the blade is swiped down.
Rhaenyra feels the sharp steel drag across the skin of her face, over her eye and down to her throat. She doesn’t instantly feel the pain, rather shock.
When she looks up, she can vaguely see the same expression on Alicent’s face. Shock, surprise and then terror.
Rhaenyra can barely feel the blood pouring from her, but it is gushing. She reaches a hand to her throat, and it becomes slick with blood. Her one eye, she cannot open, and her vision in the other blurs. Her head feels light, as she quietly whispers, “Ali?” And then her legs collapse from underneath her. Her breath comes in short pants, as it feels like she can barely breathe.
Chaos breaks loose, as everyone in the room watches the heir to the throne look up, her face slashed, almost like that of Prince Aemond’s, and the blood flows from the cut to her throat. When she collapses, many dive to catch her.
Rhaenyra doesn’t know who’s arms she lands in, but they gently set her to the floor. A hand comes to firmly place on her throat, in an effort to stem the flow of blood, and Rhaenyra whimpers at the pain that ignites, struggling under the hands.
“Don’t move.” A voice says to her, it sounds vaguely like Rhaenys, but the blood running down her face blocks her ears. “It’s okay.”
Rhaenys looks worriedly to her husband, as she places her hands on the Princess’s throat. The wound the Queen had inflicted was gruesome, going from the woman’s left brow, through her eye and all the way down to her throat. Rhaenyra’s breath comes in short, weak gasps, and blood stains her teeth, dripping from her mouth. Rhaenys knows that should they not act quickly, a new heir to the throne will be crowned.
Rhaenyra’s boys, her ‘grandsons’, are being held back as they ball at the sight of their mother. Their little faces red as they call for the person who has done everything to protect them. Tears stream in rivers down their cheeks, and Rhaenys’ heart aches for them.
The Queen’s children look in shock at what’s before them. Aegon, the oldest, stands frozen, eyes locked on his bleeding sister. Aemond, similar to his brother, looks at the sight. Though, to many people's shock, you could find tears in his eye. Helaena, the strange young girl, is crying whilst murmuring to herself, something about eyes closing and wars ending.
Many would find these reactions shocking, as they did not think the Crown Princess had any sort of bond with her younger half-siblings. But, the truth was, that Rhaenyra loved them. They were her blood, after all. During the beginning, she made an effort to get to know them. She took Aegon flying when he would get bored of his lessons. She listened to Helaena, as she talked about whatever species of insect she had found, and respected the girl’s wishes to not be touched. And, she indulged Aemond in his fascination with dragon’s, and assured the boy he would have one when he was older. As time passed, and she had her own children, less of these moments happened, but she still tried to make time for them. Each sibling holds fond and special memories of these moments with their elder sister. And though poison has been whispered in their ears, doubts set in their minds, deep down they believe that Rhaenyra would never harm them.
Viserys is inconsolable. The man was already weak to begin with, but the sight of his daughter with a potentially fatal wound was enough to make him also collapse. He weeps openly, at the sight of his daughter, the only thing he has left of Aemma, choking on her own blood. The king sits frozen, no words being able to bring him from his stupor.
But, perhaps it is the Queen’s reaction that is the most interesting. The woman stands there weeping, blade forgotten and dropped to the floor, being apprehended by kingsguard members, as she sobs. Quiet apologies could be made out of her cries, as she looks at the fallen Princess with nothing but guilt and sorrow.
Rhaenys, feeling the blood seeping through her fingers, called out, “Fetch a damn maester!” And then demands for the room to be cleared of all the lords and ladies around them. The guards make quick work of the crowd, guiding people out of the hall until only the royal family remains, as well as the children.
A maester comes running to the two, asking Rhaenys to move her hands so he might look at the wound. When she does, more blood runs down the Princess’s neck, staining her clothes and dripping to the floor.
The maester shakes his head, “It is bleeding too much for stitches.”
And the room runs cold. Lucerys and Jacaerys cry louder, their sobs so loud it could rival that of a dragon. Corlys does his best to comfort them, but even he is failing in that endeavor.
To many’s surprise, it’s the Queen’s voice that speaks next, “Then do something else! Surely there is another solution.”
“Ali…” Rhaenyra weakly speaks, blood still flows from the corner of her mouth, and her hand shakily reaches out for the woman. Rhaenys looks at her in surprise. The woman had mortally wounded her, yet Rhaenyra calls out for her?
It seems that is all the King Guard need, as she is released, and Alicent runs to the fallen princess. She falls to Rhaenyra’s side, ignoring the blood that stains her dress and grasping the shaky hand.
“I’m here.” Her face falls as she looks at the damage she has done, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to, I swear.”
Rhaenyra’s hand weakly squeezes her hand, and Alicent wants to sob at the lack of strength in it. She did this.
Rhaenys looks at the two, and she wonders how she had never seen it before. Even when she is bleeding out, Rhaenyra only looks at Alicent with love. And, if looked at closely, the Queen could be seen with the same look.
“The only other option is cauterisation. But, I must warn you, Your Grace. It may not work, and will be very painful.” The maester states.
Alicent immediately nods, “Please..” She whispers, desperation in her voice.
The maester nods, “She will have to be held down.” And he sets about gathering the equipment needed, placing a blade into the fire to heat up.
Alicent nods, looking over to her children, “Aegon…”
Nothing else needs to be said, as Aegon knocks out of his stupor and rushes to his sister's side. His hands shakily reach for her shoulders, resting there until he is told otherwise. Aemond joins his brother, and goes to one of Rhaenyra’s legs as Helaena goes to the other. All children have tears in their eyes as Rhaenyra weakly struggles under their holds.
Alicent firmly holds Rhaenyra’s hand in hers, rubbing soothingly at her knuckles, “It’s okay. It’s okay, Nyra. It won’t hurt for long.”
Rhaenyra continues to gasp in shallow breaths, gurgling slightly at the blood in her throat. Alicent weeps at the sight, and gently turns Rhaenyra’s head in an effort to relieve the blood and allow Rhaenyra to breathe. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
The maester soon crouches back down, a red hot, steaming knife in his hand that he holds over Rhaenyra’s throat. Alicent turns Rhaenyra’s head, mindful of the wound to her eye, and the guilt she feels increases. She turns the woman’s head further up, allowing her throat to be further exposed.
Alicent looks up, nodding to her children who return it, positioning themselves so that their body weight holds Rhaenyra down.
Alicent then turns to the woman on the ground, who is whimpering and struggling with what little strength she has left, “It’s okay. It’s okay, Nyra. It’s going to be okay.”
She then turns to the maester, momentarily eyeing the smoldering blade, before nodding.
Without further prompting, the maester places the knife to the princess’s skin. Immediately, Rhaenyra screams in agony. A loud, blood curdling scream as she tries to move away from the heated blade. However, hands hold her down, prohibiting her from moving. Rhaenyra struggles under their holds, all whilst her voice grows hoarse from her screams. Her voice fails her as she wishes to beg them to stop.
Almost all in the room flinched at the screams, they could rival that of a dragon. All winced at the Princess’s agony, Alicent gently shushing her.
Rhaenyra’s boys shout in the background, struggling to try and get to their mother. Corlys holds firm, keeping the boys from the scene, whispering sweet nothings to them to try and assure them.
After what feels like years of the blade sizzling against her skin, it is removed, and Rhaenyra feels light headed from the pain. Her eye begins to shut without her will, but a hard squeeze to her hand and a panicked voice forces her to open it.
“Don’t sleep. Please, Rhaenyra, don’t fall asleep. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Rhaenyra weakly blinks with her one eye, barely making out Alicent’s blurry figure. She opens her mouth to talk, but all that comes out is a breathy wheeze where her voice should have been.
“Don’t talk.” Alicent pleads, “It’s okay, it’s almost over.”
Alicent glances at the wound on her throat. It was a ghastly sight, the flesh on the left of the Princess’s throat now burned and sizzling, but no longer gushing with blood. It would need to be dressed soon, to prevent infection from setting in.
The maester sets to work by un-bottling different salves that he rubs into the wound, which makes Rhaenyra’s cries of pain pick up again. He then hastily wraps the wound. He picks up a bottle, handing it to Alicent, “Milk of the poppy, Your Grace. For the pain.”
Alicent nods, though she feels slight fury that it was not given to Rhaenyra sooner, but time was of the essence.
Aegon helps her gently lift Rhaenyra’s head, the Princess groaning weakly. Alicent holds the bottle to Rhaenyra’s lips, urging her to drink the liquid. As it’s tipped into her mouth, Rhaenyra chokes slightly on it, however does manage to swallow it. And, soon the Princess’s eye closes, her shallow breathing becoming more even, and her hand goes limp in Alicent’s.
“I suggest we have the Princess moved to a bed, then I will treat her eye.” The maester says, and Alicent flinches at the mention of what other damage she had done, before asking,
“Will she live?”
It was the question on all of their minds, and they held their breaths as the maester paused.
“It is too soon to tell, Your Grace.” He says, Alicent’s stomach dropping, “But, if infection does not set in and the Princess survives the night, I believe there would be a chance.”
Alicent nods, whispering a “Thank you.”
Guards step up to help carry the Princess to a chamber, and also escort the King to bed as he is seen just staring blankly in front of him, where she is laid gently on the bed. The maester instantly goes to her side, and begins stitching the slash down her eye closed.
Alicent quietly asks for the children to be taken to bed, and the guard with her warily nods. Rhaenyra’s boys kick and scream, but Alicent’s own children step up to comfort them, as well as Rhaena and Baela. They gently coax the two away from their mother and out of the room.
With Rhaenys, Alicent, Daemon and Corlys being the only ones remaining, Daemon quickly draws his sword and aims it at Alicent’s neck.
Alicent flinches at the feeling of the steel to her neck, as Daemon glares at her.
“Harming the Crown Princess is punishable by death.” He hisses through his teeth, “I should cut your head from your fucking shoulders.”
Alicent stays silent, waiting for the Rogue Prince to follow through with his word.
“Daemon.” Rhaenys’ voice, like steel against the tension, “Enough blood has been spilled tonight, I will have no more stain on my floor.”
Daemon looks at the woman incredulously, “She almost killed Rhaenyra!”
“And she will answer for it.” Rhaenys says, “But not tonight.” She glares at Daemon, “Put it down. Now.”
Daemon pauses, eyes burning with hatred at Alicent, flickering between her and Rhaenys before he snarls, removing the blade from Alicent’s neck. He marches up to her, scowling at her. “Queen or not, if you harm her in any other way, I will kill you, and your cunt of a father.” And then he swirls, marching out of the room.
Alicent lets out a breath of relief without realizing. But, she tenses again when Rhaenys rounds on her.
“I may have bought you time, Alicent.” The older woman says, her face masked of any emotion, “But you best pray Rhaenyra lives, if you have any hope of you and your children surviving.” Her eyes flicker over to Rhaenyra, pale and barely breathing as the maester sews the wound over her eye. “And hope that she forgives you for this. I will go find my son, inform him of what has happened. Goodnight, Your Grace.”
With that, Rhaenys and Corlys leave the woman alone in the room, only the maester and an unconscious Rhaenyra with her.
Alicent stands there, breathing heavily as her mind has yet to comprehend what has happened. Her hands and dress are caked in Rhaenyra’s blood and it makes her feel terribly ill. Her instincts tell her to rip into her cuticles, a terrible habit that she has fought to stop. Yet, she can only stare at the red staining her entire hands.
A hand to her shoulder makes her flinch, and she turns to lock eyes with the maester.
“I have treated the wound as best I can, Your Grace.” The man says, “She will scar, but the wound will heal. Valyrian steel cuts clean.”
Alicent nodded numbly, glancing over at Rhaenyra, who was so pale that she looked like paper. Wrappings covered the left side of her face, going over her eye and around her neck.
“And…. and the eye?” Alicent asks, afraid that what she fears will be true.
The maester holds a grim expression, “I’m… afraid the situation is the same, Your Grace. The flesh will heal, but the eye is lost.”
Guilt fills Alicent. She thanks the maester, who bows to her before leaving, and Alicent is alone with Rhaenyra, bar the guard standing outside.
Alicent shakily breathes, hesitantly stepping up to the bed, and sitting beside Rhaenyra. She gently picks up the woman’s hand, rubbing the cold flesh. It scares her, because Rhaenyra has never been cold. She always ran hot. ‘Blood of the dragon’ is what she would say, and Alicent would scoff at her.
Alicent keeps her eye on her breathing, listening to the quiet rasps of the shallow breaths.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice breaks, “I’m so sorry, Rhaenyra. I-I never wanted this, I swear to you.”
Alicent silently cries at the Princess’s bedside, placing her head against the hand in her grasp, “Don’t leave. Please, don’t leave me. Please, please, please.”
Far into the night, as the light of dawn shines into the room, the Queen’s quiet murmurs could barely be heard. As she tightly grasped Rhaenyra’s cold hand in hers.