twin flames | daemon targaryen

eight

The day that King Viserys I Targaryen married Lady Alicent Hightower was a joyous day for the realm. It was a sign of House Targaryen strength, a promise to the Seven Kingdoms of their wealth and ability to continue their line. For the inner Targaryen circle, the day was anything but joyous.

For Rhaenyra, it was a tragic day. A best friend was lost and a mother was replaced. The marriage represented a threat to her claim as heir for there was no doubt that Alicent would produce Targaryen babes.

For Viserys, it was a regretful day. He was regretful for replacing his beloved Aemma not even a year after she died giving birth to Baelon, for the pain he was causing not only his daughters but himself, that he allowed himself to be persuaded into this marriage by his Small Council when he already had two heirs, and for finding solace in Alicent Hightower those months following the deaths.

For Rhaella, it was a sad day, but unavoidable. She had seen it in her dreams and had tried to prepare herself for it long before Viserys had announced the betrothal. The replacement of her mother weighed on her, fears of Aemma's memory fading often at the forefront of her mind. She couldn't even remember what her mother's voice sounded like.

Rhaella had stood dutifully at her father's and sister's sides in the days leading up to the ceremony, a constant pillar of strength and a listening ear to their woes. Rhaella often found herself in Alicent's chambers as well, taking pity on the Hightower girl who was about to be thrust into a world she was little prepared for without a mother or sister at her side to guide her.

"Green replaces blue, the game begins anew," Rhaella muttered under her breath as she pinned Alicent's russet hair up, her fingers cramping slightly with the pressure she was using to keep the curly locks in place.

The Targaryen girl had joined Alicent in her chambers early that morning, opting to break fast with the woman soon to be her step-mother rather than her father and sister.

The two did not speak at all about the ceremony that was to take place later that day as they ate, instead opting to talk of the gossip regarding the lords and ladies that had arrived for the marriage of their King and new Queen Consort. They pretended that all was well, that their lives were not about to drastically change in the coming hours.

When one of Alicent's ladies' maids started to do Alicent's hair for the ceremony, Rhaella had quickly stepped in and offered her help instead. Alicent had accepted it gratefully, the two falling into comfortable silence in front of Alicent's vanity as Rhaella set to work on transforming Alicent's beautiful locks into an elegant updo.

"What did you say?" Alicent asked her after a moment, peering up at her through the mirror while she picked at her nail beds. It irked the Hightower girl that she could not understand High Valyrian. She had tried to learn the language from Rhaenyra years before, but the language never stuck.

"Oh, nothing," Rhaella promised, her tongue poking out from her mouth as she finished pinning up Alicent's curls. "I must admit that I have always been jealous of your hair, Lady Alicent, especially when we were younger." Alicent looked up at her in shock.

"My hair? Princess, you have the beautiful Targaryen hair of silver and gold. If anything, I am jealous of yours—"

"Please, call me Rhaella," the princess interrupted with a sweet smile. "You are to be my...my step-mother, I suppose." Both women paused at Rhaella's words, taking in their truth. Alicent grimaced at the reminder, her mind drifting to Rhaenyra and their falling out.

"You may call me Alicent," the Hightower told Rhaella after a few moments. "I-I would never ask you to call me step-mother." Rhaella nodded and fixed a couple of the pins.