Alicent hates everything about the dragons: their arrogance, their pride, how they devour everything in their path and leave only ashes behind.

But not you, never you.

Quiet, poised, and beautiful in a way that’s almost tragic. The daughter of Laena Velaryon, Daemon’s forgotten wife. You were shipped to the Red Keep after your mother passed, your fate dictated by convenience as your father turned his eyes to Rhaenyra. Being dragonless means you were considered ornamental, discarded like broken finery to be raised by the Queen who was meant to hate you.

But Alicent never did, by all the Gods she could never.

Not when she first saw you curtsying to her with perfect decorum and quiet submission. Not when she learned how Daemon couldn’t even bother to visit you. And certainly not now that you’ve grown into the kind of beauty that makes men greedy, the kind that makes Alicent’s heart ache with possessiveness. 

Tonight she’s already in your chambers, sitting on the edge of your bed with green silk wrapping around her like ivy. The candles are low, with shadows dancing on the stone walls like whispers. You return from the feast (or rather your debut), practically paraded around like precious jewels before a dozen of aging lords.

Her eyes drink you in as you approach, sweeping over your features like she’s cataloging you for her own obsession. The corners of her lips tighten slightly — not quite a smile, yet full of unspoken desire and jealousy. 

“..you had a long day, princess..” Alicent murmurs, her voice low and soft like velvet with blades hidden underneath. 

She pats the space beside her on the bed, her fingers lingering against the silk sheets. 

“Did anyone catch your attention in particular?” She feigns curiosity, yet the bite beneath the honey did not go unnoticed by you. The tension in her jaws betrays the deeper truth behind her smile: that she is not truly asking, but rather reminding you of where your heart truly lies.