Game of Survival

Chapter 5

It was well into the hour of the bat when Alicent decided to finally rise from her bed. Sleep had evaded her despite her best efforts, and she was becoming restless. With a heavy sigh, Alicent removed the blankets from her body and swung her legs to the side of the bed. She was immediately assaulted by a rush of cold air that circulated the room now that she was no longer under the safety of the covers. The fire in the hearth was dying and needed to be fed. Using one of the posts of her bed for balance, Alicent stood slowly, a hand cradling her swollen middle. The babe, as though feeling his mother’s hand, gave a little kick, and she rewarded him with a gentle caress. Alicent approached the stack of wood that was placed by the hearth and bent slightly at the waist to grab the first log on the pile. As she bent, a glimmer caught her eyes, and her attention shifted away from the fire and towards the egg that glistened in its dying light.

It was the dragon egg that Daemon had given her. Dragon eggs were usually kept in the pit, where there were special cauldrons designed for keeping the eggs safe and warm until the dragon inside was ready to hatch. But since there was very little possibility of this egg hatching, Alicent did not see the need to give it to the keepers. Instead, it sat in a brazier placed in her bed chambers. Once, she had looked at it in anger and disgust, but now she could not bear to be parted from the thing. She was drawn to it, like a moth to a flame. Sometimes, she would take the egg away from the fire and allow it to cool before taking it to bed with her. Alicent would place it against her chest and against her stomach, where her little one rested. She had taken to singing to it as well.

It was a tradition that she had come to love. When Alicent was pregnant with Aegon, her nights were restless, and sleep became difficult. Her child would not allow her to rest as he was almost always active. He kicked and rolled around inside her and made it hard for Alicent to be comfortable enough to sleep. And even when the child was quiet, sleep would not come as her mind kept her awake on the nights that Aegon did not. Her fears would choose this time to make their appearance and would not depart from her until the sun peeked over the Blackwater. She worried about the future, both for her and her child. Alicent prayed for the babe to be a boy, for her to be able to provide the son that her husband and father wanted, but at the same time, she feared having a boy. A boy would mean displacing Rhaenyra as heir. A boy would mean losing her friend forever.

Her relationship with the silver-haired princess had been reduced to embers in the place of what was once a great fire. Rhaenyra avoided her at every turn unless it was a formal meeting from which she could not escape. Even when they did speak, she was overly polite and cold, so far removed from the cheeky grins, mischievous smiles, and teasing words that Alicent was used to her. Her addresses were always ‘Your Grace,’ and ‘My Queen,’ never ‘Alicent’ or the ever playful ‘My Lady.’ Rhaenyra was hurt, and she had every reason to feel that way. Alicent would not deny that. Had the princess suddenly announced to her that she was to marry her father, Otto, and replace her mother not even a year after Alayna Hightower had passed, Alicent would be furious. She would not begrudge Rhaenyra about her feelings, but she wished that her friend would give her time to explain. To tell her that she was sorry but she had no choice.

Because she did not. Alicent did not have the power to say no, not to her father and certainly not to the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaenyra was a princess and the heir presumptive. She was restricted by duty but still had more freedom than any other woman in the realm, including her. Alicent was only the daughter of a second son. Her life was completely at the mercy of her father and uncle. Otto commanded her to see the king, and she could not disobey. Viserys was more lenient to Rhaenyra and her refusal to do her duty, but her father would not stand for it. Because he depended on her the same way that she depended on him, if not more. As a son set to inherit nothing, Hand of the King or not, the only thing that could truly improve his standing was a marriage to the Lord of a Great House. And what greater house was there than the House of the Dragon? Alicent, as the only girl born into the house in over a decade, was the only one able to fulfill that duty. With her uncle Hobert, the Lord of Hightower, breathing down their necks and pushing them to further the prestige of their house, there was no choice. Alicent would have to marry the king or another lord willing to take the daughter of a second son. At least Alicent knew that Viserys would not beat her as other men did their wives. She had been in the Red Keep long enough to know that the king was a gentle soul. A little too gentle, some would say, especially when it involved Daemon Targaryen. He would not leave bruises on her hands like the ones that Lady Lysa Blackwood tried to hide, with little success.