| The Daughter of a Targaryen | HOTD

2 | Gods Be Good

I now stand outside of the Kings room. Alicent is standing beside me waiting for me to make a move. I breathe in rapidly while my heart is rattling my rib cage so hard I'm surprised it hasn't broken it yet.

Alicent can be cruel but in this moment, she stood next to me and waited patiently beside me. No judgment in sight. Not even a sneer of annoyance. As if she understood me and what I had to do to survive.

"Think of something else, when it happens".

I jumped at the sound of her voice, not expecting her to speak but to continue the silence. I turned my head towards her trying to understand what she meant. But I know what she meant. To please the King you must be compliant. To survive you must be compliant. Pretend, "think of something else". I repeated in my mind. She didn't look at me but stared ahead of her, deep in thought. Her thoughts looked painful, and for a moment, a brief moment I felt sympathetic towards her. For the first time, and I hated to admit it, but Alicent and I had something in common. We were women and this was a man's world.

I completely loathed this. It made me angry, tears were threatening to spill from my eyes. But I wouldn't let them drop. I am not weak! I will not be weak! I shook my head and quickly knocked on the door.

No answer.

I knocked again and spoke, "My king?", it made me even more angrier when I heard the crack of fear in my voice.

Still no answer.

I looked to Alicent for help but she stood her ground and didn't even try to turn to face me. After a while a sound of some movement came from within his room.

"Come in."

He finally spoke, his voice came out with a croak, he sounded drunk. Again.

Alicent left silently as I opened one side of the big double doors and slid myself inside. His room was just how it was the night before. Dark, the curtains drawn, it smelt of alcohol, and that god awful smell of red wine. The reminder of blood. It made me sick.

I could barely see, as I crept closer to the massive bed, where he was always found. I could just see the mattress as a lit lantern hung above. He was not in his original spot. I could hear his laboured breathing but I didn't know in what area of the room it came from. I have no idea where he was which made
me become more fearful. I must not let him know I fear him. I must not be weak.

"My king?"

I hear a sniffle coming from the window. Is he crying?

"Am I really yours?"

He has not said more than three words to me since my recent labours of our son, who was once again stillborn. The words embedded in my mind, "I hate you", and nothing but grunts, wheezes and a few moans when he finally finds his release, and now he wants a conversation. I just want this to be over with. I sigh in annoyance.

I move towards his voice, and reply with the best I could muster, "I am your wife".

I can now see him sitting on the ground near the window. It is dark but I can just work out the image of his body sprawled out against the wall, with a bottle of wine in hand. Always. I want to roll my eyes at the sight.

"Hmmm", he moans as if in pain, as his head dangles towards the ground. His blonde hair hanging infront of his eyes.

I stand in front of him now. He doesn't even try to look up at me.

"Why does everyone think that I should be King? Why can't they make the decisions themselves?"

I scoff, he is talking like a stubborn child, and the realm wants this to be their King. I want to laugh at this pathetic excuse of a man. But I reframe.