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The Realm's Alpha Chapter 15 (Dragons Don't Love)
🕑 Added 2025-01-05 18:11:58 +0000 UTC"You heard me, the King has decided to make Princess Rhaenyra the future heir of The Iron Throne." Gwayne's words echoed in Alicent's chamber as she sat frozen in her chair, her embroidery forgotten in her lap.
"I... what?" Alicent blinked rapidly, certain she had misheard. "That's impossible. The succession laws-"
"Have been changed, apparently," Gwayne said, running a hand through his dark hair. He turned his head slightly, and the candlelight caught the angry red scar that ran from his right temple to his jaw - Prince Daemon's parting gift from the tourney. "The King's word is law, after all."
"But..." Alicent set aside her needlework, her hands trembling slightly. "Where did you hear this?"
Gwayne almost chuckled, but it turned into a wince as the movement pulled at his healing wound. "Everyone knows, sister. The King's already summoning the lords to court to swear fealty." He studied her face carefully. "She hasn't told you?"
Alicent felt heat rise to her cheeks. "We haven't... we haven't really spoken in a week. I thought she needed space, after her brother..."
"Space?" Gwayne raised an eyebrow, the scar tissue pulling tight. "Since when does the mighty Alicent Hightower give anyone space?"
"Since my best friend lost her brother," Alicent snapped, but there was something else there, a tension in her voice that made Gwayne look at her more closely.
"This isn't right," she continued, standing to pace the room. "Prince Daemon should be heir. He's the king's brother, he's a warrior, he's-"
"A monster?" Gwayne touched his scar meaningfully. "You didn't see his face in the tourney, Ali. He wasn't trying to win - he was trying to kill me."
Alicent stopped pacing, her face softening as she looked at her brother's wound. "Does it still hurt?"
"Only when I laugh," he tried to joke, but his smile was strained. "Or eat. Or speak. Or breathe."
"At least your face won't be as pretty as mine anymore," she teased, trying to lighten the mood.
"Oh yes, because that was such a concern before," Gwayne rolled his eyes. "Though some ladies do love scars, or so I'm told."
"Mother would have known exactly what to put on it," Alicent said absently, then immediately regretted it when she saw the shadow cross her brother's face.
"Yes," he said quietly. "She would have."
Silence fell between them. Helaena Hightower had died three years ago, but the wound of her loss still felt fresh to Gwayne in a way it never quite had for Alicent.
"She would have hated all this intrigue," Gwayne said finally. "She always said King's Landing stank of more than just shit."
"She hated everything about this place," Alicent muttered, moving to her window. The city spread out below her, golden in the afternoon sun. "I never understood why. The food here is better, the company more interesting, the opportunities-"
"Not everyone measures a place's worth by its advantages, sister," Gwayne interrupted gently. "Mother valued simpler things."
"Yes, well, her constant complaints about wanting to return to Oldtown didn't do her any favors with Father," Alicent said sharply. "If she had just tried to adapt-"
"Like you did?" There was an edge to Gwayne's voice now. "Throwing yourself into court life, becoming the perfect lady, the perfect friend to the princess?"
Alicent turned to face him, her green eyes flashing. "What exactly are you implying?"
"Nothing," Gwayne held up his hands in surrender, but his expression remained knowing. "Just that you and mother had very different ideas about what makes a life worth living."
"She chose to be miserable here," Alicent said, but her voice lacked conviction. "I chose to make the best of it."
"And now your best friend is to be Queen," Gwayne observed. "Quite the fortunate choice, wouldn't you say?"
Alicent felt her face flush again, but for an entirely different reason. Images of Rhaenyra - of nights in the Godswood, of heated touches and desperate kisses - flashed through her mind.
"I should go congratulate her," she said quickly, needing to escape her brother's too-perceptive gaze. "It would look strange if I didn't."
"Yes," Gwayne agreed, his voice neutral. "It would." He paused for a moment. "Ali?"
"Yes?"
"Be careful," he said softly. "Whatever game you're playing with the princess... remember that dragons play by different rules than the rest of us. This is proof of that."
"Prince Daemon will face consequences for what he did to you," Alicent declared, her fingers curling into fists. "What he did was dishonorable, cruel-"
Gwayne's laugh turned into a painful wince. "A dragon, sister. The man has a dragon and is brother to the King. How naive are you?"
"He broke the Rules of the Tourney," Alicent insisted. "The King would punish any other lord for such actions."
"'Any other lord,'" Gwayne repeated mockingly. "Having a dragon doesn't make you 'any other lord.' Otherwise, we'd all be flying around right now, and all of Westeros would be one giant metal oven, making even the Seven Hells jealous."
"I'll speak with Rhaenyra about this," Alicent said firmly.
Gwayne looked at her as if she'd sprouted a second head. "The Princess will not do anything."
"You don't know her like I-"
"I know you and the Princess are... good friends," Gwayne cut her off, his voice gentle but firm. "But she will never lift a finger to help you, especially against her favorite uncle."
Color rose in Alicent's cheeks. "Rhaenyra is different. She cares about justice, about doing what's right-"
"Different?" Gwayne scoffed. "There's nothing different about her. Anyone can sit in a chair and pretend they are what the realm needs. But rules and justice?" He gestured to his scarred face. "They're just a facade for those who ride dragons. They act like they're the face of justice, but they're as flawed as the rest of us. More so, perhaps, because they have the power to act on their worst impulses."
"That's not true," Alicent protested. "Rhaenyra isn't-"
"She's using you, Ali," Gwayne said softly. "Just like they all use us, and we use them."
"She doesn't use me," Alicent snapped, looking at her big brother angrily. A look that reminded Gwayne of their dear mother.
Gwayne looked at her with such pity it made her chest ache. "Your love for her is blinding you."
Alicent felt as if all the blood had drained from her face. "H-How do you know about-"
"I'm not blind, little sister," Gwayne said gently. "I know what it is to love a woman, but I also know the feeling of not being loved back." He stepped closer, touching her shoulder. "Do you think your Princess will marry you? Have children with you?"
"She could," Alicent whispered, but even to her own ears, the words sounded hollow.
"She won't," Gwayne said firmly. "She might marry one day, but you'll simply be one of many other ladies she takes to bed. You'll never be anything special to her."
Alicent jerked away from his touch, tears burning in her eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know her-"
"I know her kind," Gwayne insisted. "They take what they want, when they want it. They play with us like children play with dolls, and when they tire of us..." He touched his scar again. "Well, you've seen what happens then."
"Rhaenyra isn't Daemon," Alicent said, but her voice lacked its earlier conviction.
"No," Gwayne agreed. "But she's a dragon all the same. And dragons don't love, sister. They consume."
Alicent turned back to the window, unable to face her brother's knowing gaze. Below, the city was darkening, but the Red Keep still glowed with torchlight. Somewhere in those halls, Rhaenyra was probably celebrating her new status, perhaps already planning her future as queen. A future that, deep down, Alicent knew wouldn't include her - not in the way she desperately wanted it to.
"I should go," she said finally, her voice thick with unshed tears.
"Ali," Gwayne called as she reached the door. "I'm not saying these things to hurt you. I'm saying them because someone has to."
She paused, her hand on the door handle. "And what would you have me do?"
"Protect yourself," he said simply. "Before she burns you too."
Alicent left without responding, her steps echoing in the empty corridor. But her brother's words followed her like shadows, whispering truths she wasn't ready to face. Not yet. Not while she could still pretend that what she and Rhaenyra shared was something more than a dragon's passing fancy.
The corridor to Rhaenyra's chambers felt longer than usual as Alicent approached, her footsteps echoing against the stone walls. Ser Steffon Darklyn, standing guard, gave her a respectful nod before stepping aside. He was used to her frequent visits to the princess's chambers.
Alicent entered the antechamber, a modestly furnished room with a plush couch. The heavy wooden door leading to Rhaenyra's bedchamber loomed before her, but before she could knock, a sound stopped her hand mid-air.
A moan, unmistakable in its nature, filtered through the thick wood. Then another, followed by Rhaenyra's distinctive voice, commanding and husky with desire.
Alicent's hand dropped to her side as she stood frozen, her heart pounding. She shouldn't look. She knew she shouldn't. But her feet carried her forward anyway, and she found herself bending to peer through the ornate keyhole.
At first, she saw only the far wall with its Targaryen banners. Then, shifting slightly to the right, the scene came into focus. Rhaenyra stood beside her bed, still fully dressed in her black and red riding clothes, her silver-gold hair falling loose around her shoulders. But it was what was happening before her that made Alicent's breath catch.
A servant girl - Sara, Alicent realized with a start - was on her knees, her dark hair gripped tightly in Rhaenyra's fists as the princess thrust into her mouth. The girl's gagging sounds mixed with Rhaenyra's pleased groans, creating a symphony of debauchery that made Alicent's cheeks burn.
"That's it," Rhaenyra's voice drifted through the door. "Take it all like a good girl."
Alicent felt sick, but couldn't look away. This wasn't how an heir to the Iron Throne should behave. Using servants like common whores, risking their honor, their futures... What if the girl got with child? What if word spread? The scandal would-
Her brother's words echoed in her mind: "Dragons don't love, sister. They consume."
No, she thought fiercely, pushing the memory away. Rhaenyra wasn't like that. This was just a youthful indiscretion. Once she was officially named heir, she would understand the gravity of her position. She would settle down, choose one person to love, and marry...but she remembered the many times Rhaenyra complained that her parents wanted her to marry, and she had told herself that she did not want only one lover. Alicent knew that, but...she was sure that Rhaenyra would choose only one now that she was heir to the Throne. She could not marry more than one. The Faith would never allow it. Alicent knew Rhaenyra had a thing for Lady Laena, but surely that was just her wanting to have fun. It was nothing serious.
Alicent was sure the King would not allow his daughter just to marry more than one lady, even he wouldn't agree to that, and he was King.
Alicent could still remember that night in the God's Wood. Rhaenyra had taken her womanhood. Alicent knew what she had done was sinful, but if Rhaenyra married her, then...it would be alright. The two of them can be together.
In her mind's eye, Alicent saw it clearly: Rhaenyra asking for her hand before the court, their wedding in the Great Sept, children with silver-gold hair and green eyes running through the Red Keep's halls. They would rule together, and Rhaenyra would be faithful, would be hers alone...
A particularly loud moan snapped her back to reality. Through the keyhole, she watched as Rhaenyra's body tensed, her hands tightening in Sara's hair as she pushed deeper into the servant's throat. "Swallow it all," she commanded, her voice thick with pleasure.
Sara complied, her throat working desperately as Rhaenyra finished. When the princess finally released her, the girl fell back, gasping for air, her lips swollen and eyes watery.
Alicent straightened, smoothing her dress with trembling hands. She waited a moment, letting her breathing steady, then raised her hand and knocked firmly on the door.
"Who is it?" Rhaenyra's voice called out, slightly breathless.
"It's Alicent."
There was a brief pause, then the sound of hurried movement. "Just a moment!"
Alicent waited, her fingernails digging into her palms as she heard whispered instructions and the rustle of clothing. Finally, the door opened, revealing Rhaenyra looking slightly disheveled but composed. Behind her, Sara was straightening the bed linens, her face flushed and her eyes downcast.
"Ali," Rhaenyra smiled warmly, as if she hadn't just been throat-fucking a servant moments before. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Clearly," Alicent replied, unable to keep the edge from her voice.
Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed slightly at her tone, but her smile remained in place. "Sara, you may go."
The servant girl curtsied hastily and practically fled the room, not meeting either of their eyes as she passed.
"Was there something you needed?" Rhaenyra asked once they were alone, moving to pour herself some wine.
Alicent watched her, noting the satisfied languor in her movements, the way her cock still made a slight bulge in her riding breeches. "I came to congratulate you," she said stiffly. "On being named heir."
"Ah," Rhaenyra took a long drink. "News travels fast."
"Shouldn't it? It's rather important news."
"I suppose it is." Rhaenyra settled onto a chair, sprawling in that carelessly elegant way she had. "Though I notice you don't seem as pleased as one might expect."
"Rhaenyra this is not how you should act." Alicent said, sounding hurt, but she tried to hide it. "Is this how the heir to the Seven Kingdoms behaves? Rutting with servants like some common-"
"Like some common what?" Rhaenyra's voice went dangerously soft. "Choose your next words carefully, Ali."
"I just thought..." she began, then stopped, unsure how to continue.
"You thought what?" Rhaenyra rose, moving closer. "That being named heir would change me? Make me more... suitable?"
"More responsible, perhaps," Alicent whispered.
Rhaenyra laughed, but there was no warmth in it. "Oh, my sweet Ali. Always trying to make me better than I am." She reached out, trailing a finger along Alicent's jaw. "Isn't that what you love about me? That I'm not what I should be?"
Alicent wanted to pull away, to deny it, but Rhaenyra's touch sent familiar heat coursing through her body. "You could be so much more," she managed.
"I could be," Rhaenyra agreed, leaning in until her lips brushed Alicent's ear. "But then I wouldn't be me, would I?"
"Why did you couple with the servant?" Alicent asked quietly, ignoring what Rhaenyra said.
A flicker of guilt crossed Rhaenyra's face before she looked away; she walked back to the pitcher and filled the glass with more wine. "I just... didn't want to think about anything for a moment."
"What do you mean?"
Rhaenyra's jaw tightened, and she quickly changed the subject. "Why haven't I seen you in a week?"
"I thought you needed some space," Alicent said carefully. "After your brother's..."
Something dark passed across Rhaenyra's features, her voice becoming strained. "There was no need for space. I feel better."
Alicent studied her face skeptically, noting the shadows under her eyes that suggested otherwise, but decided not to press the matter. Instead, she asked, "Have you chosen the cloak you'll wear when your father announces you as heir?"
"Laena has already helped me with that," Rhaenyra replied, a small smile playing at her lips.
Alicent's own smile faltered. "Lady Laena is still here?"
"She's been with me every day..." Rhaenyra's voice dropped to a sultry purr. "And every night." She stretched languidly, like a cat in the sun. "She'll be here until her father decides to kneel before a woman with a bigger cock than him."
The casual way Rhaenyra spoke of Laena made something twist in Alicent's stomach. She didn't like imagining them together, didn't like thinking about all those nights...
"Lord Corlys won't be pleased if he learns you're sleeping with his daughter," Alicent said, trying to keep her tone light and teasing. "And Princess Rhaenys will be furious."
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes as she moved to a chest, pulling out an elaborate cloak of black silk embroidered with red dragons. "I'm the heir," she said dismissively. "I can do whatever I want."
The arrogance in her voice made Alicent want to argue, to remind her that even heirs had responsibilities, had duties... but the memory of her brother's warnings held her tongue. Instead, she forced herself to focus on the cloak in Rhaenyra's hands.
"It's beautiful," she admitted, running her fingers over the intricate embroidery, trying not to think about Laena's hands crafting it, about Laena's hands on Rhaenyra...
Alicent's fingers traced the intricate dragon patterns on the cloak, trying to ignore how Rhaenyra's eyes lit up whenever she mentioned Laena. "What was Prince Daemon's reaction?" she asked, changing the subject. "To no longer being heir?"
"I wasn't there," Rhaenyra shrugged, dropping onto her bed. "Father only said his reaction was... odd." She stretched out, her riding clothes pulling tight across her body. "It's a shame you haven't been around this past week. Laena and I had quite a lot of fun together."
Alicent could well imagine what kind of 'fun' that had been. The thought made her stomach churn. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you," she said softly.
"...It's alright," Rhaenyra said, waving her hand dismissively.
Alicent stared at her, trying to reconcile this casual attitude with the gravity of what had happened. A brother dead - even if he'd lived only half an hour. She remembered Gwayne after their mother died, how he'd withdrawn into himself like a turtle into its shell. For a week, he'd barely spoken, barely eaten. When she'd tried to comfort him, he'd snarled at her to leave him alone, his grief as raw and ragged as the scar he now wore.
"Leave me alone, Alicent. You didn't even cry at her funeral. You don't understand anything." Her brother had said. It had taken a long time for their relationship to go back to how it was, and sometimes, Alicent wondered if it ever did.
She'd expected something similar from Rhaenyra - isolation, mourning, some sign that she felt the loss. Instead, she'd apparently spent the week bedding Laena Velaryon and using servants for her pleasure.
"How is your mother doing?" Alicent asked carefully, watching Rhaenyra's face.
Something flickered in those violet eyes, and for a moment, Rhaenyra looked down at her hands. "She's grieving," she said quietly, looking guilty, then quickly added, "Do you want to stay with me tonight?"
Alicent frowned at the sudden change of subject. "I can't. Father wants to have dinner with us."
Rhaenyra's face fell slightly, but she recovered quickly. "I'm sorry about what my uncle did to your brother," she said, running her fingers through her silver-gold hair. "It was a terrible accident."
"Accident?" Alicent's voice came out sharper than she intended. She'd been about to ask what punishment Daemon would face, but that word - 'accident' - stopped her cold.
"Well, yes," Rhaenyra said, looking confused by Alicent's tone. "These things happen in tourneys. The rules-"
"The rules explicitly forbid what he did," Alicent cut in. "He deliberately aimed for Gwayne's face. Everyone saw it."
Rhaenyra shifted uncomfortably. "You can't know that for certain...Uncle Daemon has always been... impulsive."
"Impulsive?" Alicent repeated incredulously. "He nearly killed my brother!"
"But he didn't," Rhaenyra pointed out, as if that made it better. "And Gwayne will heal. Some ladies even find scars attractive, or so I'm told."
Alicent felt as if she'd been slapped. She stared at Rhaenyra, at this girl she thought she knew so well, and suddenly saw her through her brother's eyes. A dragon indeed - beautiful and terrible and utterly unable to understand the pain of those she considered beneath her.
"My brother's face is ruined," she said quietly. "He can barely eat without pain. But I suppose that doesn't matter to you, does it? After all, he's just another lord's son. Not a dragon rider, not someone important."
"Ali," Rhaenyra sat up, reaching for her hand. "That's not what I meant-"
Alicent stepped back, out of reach. "Then what did you mean? Please, explain to me how my brother's suffering is just an 'accident' while you've spent the week fucking Laena Velaryon instead of mourning your own brother."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Careful, Alicent."
"Or what?" Alicent challenged, her brother's warnings forgotten in her anger. "Will you have your uncle give me a matching scar?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Rhaenyra snapped. "I would never hurt you."
"No? Just everyone else? The servants you use and discard, the lords you mock, the ladies you seduce and abandon?"
"Is that what this is about?" Rhaenyra stood, her height advantage forcing Alicent to look up at her. "Are you jealous of Laena?"
"This isn't about Laena!"
"Isn't it?" Rhaenyra's lips curved into a knowing smirk. "You've been tense ever since I mentioned her name. Does it bother you, thinking about what we do together? How she moans my name? How she begs for my cock?"
Each word was like a dagger, but Alicent refused to show how much they hurt. "What bothers me is how little you care about anyone but yourself."
"That's not true," Rhaenyra protested, looking hurt.
"Isn't it? Your brother dies, and you spend the week bedding Laena. Your uncle maims mine, and you call it an accident. Your mother grieves alone while you fuck servants." Alicent's voice cracked slightly. "Do you even see us as people, or are we all just toys for your amusement?"
Rhaenyra recoiled as if struck. "How dare you-"
"How dare I what? Speak the truth?" Alicent moved toward the door, her hands shaking. "You're right about one thing, Your Grace. You can do whatever you want now that you're heir. But don't expect me to pretend it's right."
"Ali, wait-" Rhaenyra reached for her, but Alicent was already opening the door.
"Enjoy your cloak," she said coldly. "I'm sure Laena put a lot of work into it."
She left before Rhaenyra could respond, her steps quick and measured until she turned the corner. Only then did she let the tears fall, remembering her brother's words: "Dragons don't love, sister. They consume."
How right he had been. And how foolish she had been not to listen.
Behind her, she thought she heard something crash against a wall in Rhaenyra's chambers, followed by a muffled curse. But she didn't turn back. She couldn't. Not if she wanted to keep what was left of her heart intact.
The corridor stretched before her, long and dark, and for the first time since coming to King's Landing, Alicent understood why her mother had hated this place so much. It wasn't the smell or the intrigue or even the danger.
It was the way it made you believe in impossible things, like dragons who could love, and princesses who could change, and hearts that wouldn't break.
