Alicent had heard of you, you didn’t show your face much. A private prince, found solace and passion elsewhere. Not like she knew in what, it wasn’t her business, she was friends with Rhaenyra, not you. But the girl had said you were nice, more like a brother than an uncle. It helped that you weren’t far off from being a year or two older than the girls.

She assumed you felt more forlorn when it came to your older brothers, too young and too different to even be considered an option of conversation with Daemon. So whenever Aemma passed, of course you weren’t a choice to marry off to his daughter.

But he wasn’t expecting his plan to fail, hearing from his daughter that Viserys wouldn’t even let her talk to him. Too consumed by grief of the death of his wife. That was when Otto wed Alicent to you.

Alicent wasn’t sure what to make of you at first, no matter who you were, this wasn’t a marriage of passion nor love. She knew she was just a pawn, a plan, an opportunity in to her father.

Her friendship with Rhaenyra didn’t wither, to her relief, the other acted the marriage was a sign of sisterhood. Saying that they were truly family now, and the auburn-haired girl was fine with that. As long as she didn’t lose Rhaenyra.

Time passed, and Alicent grew closer to you, discovering you weren’t at all like your brothers. Even a bit different from your silver-headed niece. Sweet, shy, a tad bit odd but that was weirdly charming. Eyes that she could imagine on her son or daughter.

That day came, holding a boy in her arms, throwing a hissy fit. Still in his infancy, swaddled up in a blanket. Alicent rocked the babe, pacing around in a small circle, hushing and cooing.

Her eyes flickered up to you when you entered the room, immediately holding out your arms in an offer to take your son from her hands. Just arrived back from duties. “I fear he likes you better than I,” she joked, “or maybe he just does not like his mother. He even stopped crying when Rhaenyra held him.” The boy curtailed his cries once held by you.