the great war

guards

In the cold, wintery city of Moresnet, the snowflakes danced in the breeze and the people bustled about their business. But within the halls of the mighty Red Keep, a different sort of dance was taking place.
At the center of it all was Alicent Hightower, a young girl with a head of fiery red curls and eyes the color of dark chocolate. Barely ten summers, Alicent was the daughter of Lord Lenin Hightower, the cunning Hand of the King to Viserys Mikaelson.

Viserys Mikaelson, monarch of the Moresnet, was still in mourning for his lost love, his heart a wasteland of sadness and loss. But the lords of Westeros, cold in their ambition, would not allow their king to languish in sorrow.

My lord. I beg you to consider the matter of your marriage. Lenin Hightower his hand spoke in form of the council.
You ask me to wed a child, Lenin? I will not marry a girl barely out of the nursery.
Not Leana Valeryon, my lord. I meant her sister, Laena, who is already ten and three. She would make a fine queen.
No. No more marriages for love or alliances. I will rule alone.

Lord Caswell, a man of great wealth and influence, stepped forward. His eyes were as sharp as his words.

Your Grace, I beg you to consider your bloodline. You have one heir, Princess Hope, but she is only a child.
A second child would secure the Mikaelson bloodline. A second heir.
I am the King. My word is law. And I say that Princess Hope is my heir, and no other. She will rule, and she will do so with a husband by her side.
Your Grace. Lord Caswell said, bowing low. We only seek to advise, to ensure the safety of your kingdom.

Sitting beneath the shade of a large tree, Hope and Alicent shared a moment of peace amidst the chaos of the Red Keep.

What are you thinking? asked Alicent, her eyes bright and curious.
I want to fly on dragonback. I want to see the great wonders across the narrow sea and eat only cake.
I'm being serious. Alicent laughed, a light, bubbly sound.
Hope's smile widened.
I never joke about cake. Hope's laughter joined Alicent's, the sound a playful melody that danced on the breeze.
But, seriously. I heard them talking about... Her voice trailed off, her gaze flicking towards the Red Keep, the place where the lords had plotted and planned.
What? Hope asked, her smile fading.
Alicent hesitated, a shadow falling across her face.
They want your grandfather to marry again. That means he may have a son.
That's all he's ever wanted, for as long as I can remember. A son to take the throne after him. She sighed, her gaze drifting towards the clouds.
Do you want him to have a son? Alicent asked, her voice tentative.
I want him to want me more than a son. But it's not gonna happen. I'll never be enough for him.
Alicent placed a gentle hand on Hope's shoulder. You are enough. More than enough. You are Princess Hope Mikaelson, first of your name, heir to Moresnet.
You sound like my grandfather.

Alicent, her patience thinning, shook her head.

Why are you being so disagreeable? she asked.
Hope remained silent, her eyes fixed on the ground.
Alicent sighed, rising to her feet.
Where are you going? Hope asked, her voice soft?
I'm going homeThe hour is growing late.
Aren't you worried about your position? Alicent asked, a hint of concern in her voice.
I like this position, quite comfortable. Hope said, her tone playful.
Alicent rolled her eyes. Gods, Hope. Be serious.
At this, Hope stood up, dusting off her skirts.
Princess Nymeria, let her rule run across the Narrow Sea in ten thousand ships to flee their Valyrian pursuers. She took Lord Mors Martell of the House of the Dawn to husband, and burned her own fleet at Sunspear to show her people they were finished running.

Alicent's mouth fell open, her eyes wide with surprise. Hope, having finished her quote, tore the page from the book Alicent was holding.

What are you doing? Alicent asked
So you remember. Hope put the ripped page on the book.
If the septa sees this book...
Fuck the septa. Hope said
Hope! Alicent laughed and both girls walked back inside the red keep.