Her days were all the same, she, her daughter Helaena, her children
Jaehaera and Maelor, her father Lord Otto, her crippled son King
Aegon and a few of their retainers spent their time in the quarters
assigned to them in Maegors Holdfast. They had initially been
confined to former storerooms but after a week or so they had been
moved to these quarters.
Hardly sized for them, nor appropriate for their standing, but at least
they were not in the Black Cells, of that she was grateful. They had
few if any visitors, they were not allowed out to walk or exercise, they
were not allowed books or any diversions of any kind.
Alicent knew that barring a miracle her life was forfeit, and likely the
lives of all those who shared her imprisonment, neither Rhaenyra nor
Daemon were of a merciful disposition, and she fully expected them
to kill her and hers in a most gruesome manner. Probably by
dragonfire, but mayhaps by hanging, drawing and quartering, if
either the Queen or her husband was in a particularly vengeful
mood.
Her only real contact with the outside world was the Septon she had
asked to attend her daily in her prayers, he was able to tell her much
of what was going on in the Red Keep, in Kings Landing and in the
Seven Kingdoms.
It appeared that after their victory at Kings Landing the fortunes of
the Blacks had stalled somewhat, even been reversed in places. Her
second son Aemond and Ser Criston Cole had escaped from the
Riverlands after defeating a sizeable portion of the rebel forces there
and were expected to link up with Lord Ormund's forces in the
Reach. Rhaenyra seemed to be passive and content to sit atop the
Iron Throne and issue laws and decrees as if half the realm was not
ignoring her as a usurper.
For her son Aegon, 2nd of his name was the true king of the Seven
Kingdoms, scarred and injured that he was, he was the King, and
everyone knew it! That bitch had usurped her son, cast aside the
laws of Gods and Men, and spat upon the right of sons to follow
fathers, to assume for herself a title she was not entitled to.
The Septon had confirmed to her what she already knew, what she
had spent her life working towards from the moment shed had heard
Aegon's cries as he had slipped out from between her legs - that the
first-born son inherits the title of the father. And no decree by a King
could change that, that fool Viserys might have forced many Lords to
swear to uphold his daughter's usurpation of her sons' rights, but
how many Lords had followed when Viserys had died?
Some had argued that the vow sworn by the father did not apply to
them, though she welcomed their support such support was mealy
mouthed, her first born son was King, it was a simple matter, and
none should have questioned her son's coronation as King.
But they had, the weak, the foolish, the ambitious, and the plainly
misguided, along with those heathens from the North, but how could
one trust savage barbarians who worshiped trees?
But more importantly, it had been the dragons, those mighty beasts
of the Targaryen family that had proved decisive in the end, and
Rhaenyra, curse that bitch, had more of them. With Rhaenyra
residing on Dragonstone and with the wild and unridden dragon
available to her she been able to swell the ranks of her dragonriders
with the so called 'dragonseeds'.
Without these dragonseeds things would have been more even, and
Vhagar, the largest of the dragons, might even have swayed things
decisively in their favour.
Instead, the dragonseeds had defeated the forces of the Three
Daughters and sent them packing, before assisting in the assault in
Kings Landing, where they were hardly needed, due to treachery
and betrayal! She cursed those who had turned their cloaks, and she
cursed the City Watch most of all, they should have purged them
completely, for these so-called men had been creatures of Daemon
Targaryen, one and all!
And now she knew that with Kings Landing secured it was only a
matter of time before the Blacks superiority in dragons would be
decisive, armies could not stand in the field against these beasts,
everyone knew that….
But, yet… Rhaenyra made no move, and there was yet the barest
slivers of hope that all was not lost. The miracle that she prayed for
everyday with the Septon might yet appear, for did not the Seven
intervene when the devout were threatened and the natural order of
their realm on earth was disrupted?
And what was more disruptive to the Seven's order than that harlot
and her whorefucker of a husband? Alicent blushed, furiously
quashing the heated images of Daemon from her mind, images and
sensations that flashed unbidden across the eye of her mind. The
images, sounds, scents and thrills of when Daemon Tragaryen had
taken her maidenhead, unwilling she had been at first, but not for
long…
Alicent composed herself with a mighty twist of will, and with the
unpleasant memories of the last time Viserys had mounted her, and
returned to her musings and thoughts, for that was all she had these
days to comfort her.
Her daughter Helaena was lost to madness and grief, Aegon was
crippled, in pain for most of his waking hours, unable to move
without the aid of a cane, and unable to father more children
according to the Maester who attended to him daily. Jaehaera and
Maelor were withdrawn and terrified most of the time, and they
barely seemed to want to speak at all. Her father was stoic, but he
had suffered a terrible beating at the hands of Daemon Targaryen
and was physically broken, though his mind, when he wanted to talk,
still showed its old sharpness and keenness.
None of the people who shared her incarceration were much in the
mood for doing anything, and especially not talking Alicent had come
to realise. The very odd time she had been taken out of her quarters
and brought to the Throne room, there to witness Rhaenyra sit atop
the huge, twisted monstrosity that was the Iron Throne, and which
belonged to her son.
She was brought out to humiliate her mostly, Rhaenyra often
screeching at her from on high, obscenities and foul curses
sometimes, the rest mostly dire threats against all those who still
supported her son's legitimate claim to the Seven Kingdoms. And
always that bitch commanded her to write to Lord Ormund and her
sons Aemond and Daeron to bend the knee to her, the so called
'rightful' Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Did that bitch sitting on the Iron Throne think she was
simpleminded? Or that Lord Ormund and her sons were equally as
stupid? Rhaenyra would never give them any mercy, bending the
knee be dammed, that usurping cunt and her fucker of a husband
would kill her two sons if they surrendered to her. And likely kill many
of the Lords who had rightly pledged their swords to Aegon's cause.
No, that silver haired harpy could scream and rant at her all she
wanted, and maybe she would indeed win this war and extinguish
her and her line, but the justness and righteousness of her son's
cause could not be destroyed, no matter what Rhaenyra did. Oh, she
might rule and her descendants might, but they would never be free
of the taint of illegitimacy and usurpation, a stigma sure to grow
every more pungent as the years passed. And if not, Alicent knew
that Rhaenyra and Daemon were sure to make enough mistakes to
either give the Lords of Westeros cause to murder them, or even
give them endless rebellions and conflict.
'Enjoy your time atop my son's throne you bitch' Alicent swore, 'and
let it be brief and troublesome'.