Her choice was made.

Once her decision was solidified in her mind, once she had no regrets about what she intended to do, Amalia gathered her children. This could not stand– she could not allow whispers in their ears any more than she could allow words flung about to fester in their heads. They were young, but not stupid. They would soon come to understand what they were hearing, and it came to her to ensure they understood right from wrong, the damage that could be done with the words Alicent and others were using.

Of course she was nervous about it. She would've been lying to all the gods if she said to anyone that she was comfortable facing her five impressionable children and telling them the truths that could still destroy them all simply because many wanted to rewrite their own stories. This could go well or this could go terribly.

But in the end, Amalia knew that she had time to teach her children the severity of this situation. They were young and they trusted her, for she'd never shown them that she was deceitful or cruel. With time, she could have them understand Rhaenyra's plight, and by extension what her sons faced.

The problem was Alicent. Amalia was even more nervous about speaking to her. Yet, it could not be avoided. Alicent might've rushed away from Driftmark as soon as she'd had the opportunity, but she would not evade her so easily in the Red Keep. Amalia need only wait and see. Catch her and fling her aside like a rotted fish.

She'd arranged for her children to meet in Aemond's chambers, where his swollen eye remained tender to the touch. Helaena had offered him an eyepatch she'd sown in the two days since the incident, red thread outlining a fierce dragon in the center. He'd been very grateful.

Daeron and Jaehaerys had too many questions for him, none of which Aemond knew how to answer in a way they would like. Could he still see people behind him? Aemond had tried to say he had never been capable of that, but Jaehaerys didn't seem to grasp this new disability quite so well. His ears had turned red when Amalia had noted that she'd better not see him resorting to any such adventures to acquire a dragon for himself. He perked up when she told him their uncle Daemon would be glad to host them on Dragonstone so he might explore the caves supervised.

Given her luck and Daemon's preference for comedy– always at the expense of her sanity, though she liked it– she had to expect Jaehaerys might come out of that cave mounted on Vermithor. Gods, she was sure her heart would stop if her two wildest sons were allowed to have the two largest dragons as their mounts.

Once they had calmed– and Aegon had gone on at length about how much more attention Aemond was sure to get from the pretty girls at court who would pout and fuss over him with his new eyepatch– she had gathered them on the bed for their serious chat. Helaena had mindlessly braided every single brother's hair while Amalia explained to them very carefully that some people in the realm believed Rhaenyra should not be Queen because she was a woman.

Jaehaerys had asked loudly why that mattered. Rhaenyra was good to him, and their great-grandmother was the 'Good' Queen Alysanne. Shouldn't a Queen be good? Then, Daeron had noted Rhaenyra was the youngest dragonrider they knew of. She was a Targaryen and she was the oldest of Viserys's children. Eldest, even, of Jaehaerys's great-grandchildren. Didn't that mean she was powerful? Didn't birthright matter? Shouldn't a Targaryen Queen be as mighty as Rhaenyra?

The youngest boys knew Rhaenyra the least. After all, they'd been born once Rhaenyra was concerned with her own children. She'd never even been particularly close to Aegon, Aemond, or Helaena, though she'd played with them when they were most little and unable to remember her doing so. In reality, Rhaenyra was more akin to an aunt than a sister.

Still, there was an undeniable degree of support even without a close bond. They respected her and admired her as someone who was older, more clever, more poised, more experienced. It was sufficient for Daeron and Jaehaerys to want to support her, even though they were still young and confused enough that they did not see how serious this misogyny could be.

The elder three had a greater grasp of the implications. Helaena went with Amalia to the sept the most, she'd listened to her mother and other women discuss their disadvantages. She knew what it felt like to be seen as less simply because she was a girl. Oddities aside, Helaena was not blind to the fact her brothers were asked about and celebrated more often than her.

Aegon and Aemond, well, Amalia knew that as growing boys soon to be men, there was a certain degree of privilege that they would enjoy regardless of their beliefs. They would always be honored as Viserys's sons, evident in how extravagant their first five namedays had been. Now that they were both dragonriders and Aemond had claimed the mighty Vhagar, it was even worrisome for Amalia that some might think they were both better candidates for the Iron Throne than Rhaenyra.

But she knew her boys in a way these people– including her father and Tyland Lannister– did not. Aegon was perfectly fine with being the spare. He liked to lounge about too much to want to have anything expected of him. His freedom was precious, as was his time to do... absolutely nothing. Some days, all he did was explore the castle and talk for hours with anyone who would indulge him.

Amalia knew that his ideal life was flying through all the Seven Kingdoms with Sunfyre, enjoying the hospitality of every castle he came by and tasting food offered by everyone, for who would let a prince go hungry? One day, she assumed, Aegon was going to be ever more interested in pretty girls than in politics and combat. Only Sunfyre would remain a constant, and Sunfyre would persist whether he had a throne or not.

Aemond, meanwhile, remained invested in the supposed glory one might find in battle. Amalia remembered Rhaenyra being a young girl of fifteen and believing she'd prefer to be a knight riding to battle and glory. Some people seemed to care for that, though Amalia did not think that battle could always be glorious. Still, she had seen the sort of rush that Daemon received from each fight, from each flight.

With Vhagar now, Aemond had no limits. He could go anywhere he wanted. Learn about any weapon that could be held, do things that would land him in the sort of books the maesters wrote about heroes. He wanted to be known as a legendary Kingsguard more than he wanted to be known as an Aegon the Conqueror. He wanted to be more famous than Daemon was currently, he wanted no limitations... and to be King meant to accept a certain degree of restraint. It was too much work for him, boring work he'd never tolerate. If anyone tried to tell Aemond to sit through a Small Council meeting rather than fly or fight... he might sooner exile them than listen.

She impressed on all five of them that they could always confide in her. She would help them where they needed it, clear the air where there was any doubt. No matter the subject, she would tell them the truth, for if they were old enough to articulate a question about something, then they were likely old enough to be given a full explanation of it.

She mentioned that Aemond had spoken of these chats with Alicent. She said sternly that if anyone wished to speak with them and have it be a secret from her or Viserys, then that was not a good thing. That they ought to come and tell her. That they ought to be ready to keep hearing about these matters, so they might support their sister and each other when the time came.

"You leave today."

She glanced sideways at Daemon. He leaned onto the balcony overlooking the open sea that would take her home. Vhagar would join them on the flight, and once more she'd be dealing with rowdy children and a sick husband crammed onto a rickety ship. Aemond wouldn't be permitted to ride Vhagar for at least a month while he healed and took time to pray and perform good deeds for the smallfolk and Rhaenyra's sons.

"I do," said Amalia, turning her head to him. "And you will sail to Dragonstone on the morrow. How fare the girls?"

"They are ready. Rhaenys will loathe me for a week then visit me nearly everyday to see the girls. We'll fly like we used to when we were children... my mother used to take her on Meleys while my father would take Viserys on Vhagar. When my mother died, my uncle Aemon would take me and Rhaenys together."

She offered him a smile. "I forgot that Vhagar was once your father's dragon. I never met him... I think I would've liked to."

Daemon looked up at the sky, watching a cloud drift over the sun. "He would've liked you. Admired your spirit. It is plain to see that if Aemond is like either of his parents... he is like you. I see my mother in him as well, the same way I see my mother in Baela. They'll survive all this. Rhaena, however... she is Viserys, she is my father."

"Speak to her the way Viserys used to speak to you. You've already made me feel welcome to come to Dragonstone. If the boys won't come, Helaena could fly us there. She's a way with people. Many think her odd, but I think she is acutely aware of the world in a way most aren't. She and I can help you with Rhaena."

"I'd like that. Very much." He half-smiled. "That business with Aemond, I regret how my girls behaved. Rhaena, well, perhaps I have underestimated her. She confessed she hit Aemond first."

She shook her head, "Truly, do not fret. Your girls were grieving, I do not blame them— nor does Aemond— and I believe they've been reprimanded enough."

"What will you do about Alicent?" When Amalia gave him a significant look, he shrugged and said, "Given your father's absence, I surmise only she could have been capable of bringing that word out of Aemond's lips."

Amalia supposed someone like Daemon would have figured it out without her having to tell him. He'd always thought the worst of Otto— and it had all been true. She did not think him a suspicious person, but perhaps pessimistic to the point of observance. After all, he knew as well as she did that even if Aemond had heard other people saying Rhaenyra's sons were bastards, he wouldn't have repeated the word unless he felt there was a reason for it to be true.

She sighed heavily, pressing her palms together. "I will send her and Alyrie away. I had considered keeping Alyrie as a ward and sending Alicent to Casterly Rock, but..."

Daemon chuckled, "But you are too kind for that." Seeing how she glared at him, he elaborated, "In your case, I suppose it is less kindness and more caution. Alicent will be encouraged to plot more fervently surrounded by Lannisters without her daughter for company— she will lose any love she has for you. Yet, I must say, at Oldtown— which I presume is where you intend to send them— she may yet find comfort in your father. He will continue to fill her head with ill thoughts of you. Alyrie will be indoctrinated to their beliefs, you know that."

"And yet the same will happen if I have her take Alyrie to Casterly Rock. I believe I will let her choose where she goes. Or... see if she may be willing to do as I require in return for staying."

He didn't seem to understand at first. Then, he hummed. "You're going to tell her what your father did to you. It is... bold. It may not be received well. She might not believe you."

"I know," said Amalia. "I am prepared for that. Do not worry... wherever she goes, whatever happens, I have made her maids and Alyrie's my informants. I will know what she does and how she plots. I wish to believe that there is still hope Alicent will let go of her feud with Rhaenyra and see how detrimental my father's plots are."

"You still have innocence left in you, then. It is a good thing, even after what you had to do to execute Larys." He straightened up, peering down at where a ship was being loaded. Her time was up— Driftmark would soon become a distant memory.

"It was good to see you again, Daemon," said Amalia quietly. "I thank you for your advice. I will pray for you and your girls. May we see each other again soon... friend."

"We will," he said. Gods, he sounded so sure. She wished he had that certainty about anything in her life at the moment. Certainty that Viserys would live long enough to defend and prepare Rhaenyra, certainty that her children would not grow up and conform to cruel ideals, certainty that revealing the truth to Alicent wouldn't cause more problems than it would solve.

She couldn't help but grin at him. "You seem convinced."

"Oh, that is because I know it. I will be prepared to welcome you to Dragonstone as soon as Aemond is well. My girls will come to like him once they've met under different circumstances. I will teach him to wield as sword better than he ever imagined, in spite of a perceived disadvantage. Your son has potential. I look forward to awakening it in him, as yours was awoken in you. He will be as successful as you, I am sure."

He took only subtle credit for giving her the means to craft her network. She appreciated that. Then, she felt him grasp her hand. She panicked for a moment— they were out in the open, anyone could see. But rather than pull her close, rather than kiss her hand, he shook it. Said goodbye the way men did with each other. To her, it spoke volumes on the level of respect he had for her. She was not a mere woman, she was Amalia, a friend. Family.

She felt herself looking up at the castle as the ship sailed away. She stood over Viserys as he sat with a lavender sprig beneath his nose, hoping to abate his nausea. She prayed to the gods, truly, that they protect Daemon's daughters, that they give him the wisdom he would need to guide them. She prayed that they would see each other again soon.

-

It was Alicent that Amalia sought next, once they'd made the journey back to the Red Keep. Viserys had taken ill again, leaving Rhaenyra preoccupied with managing the Small Council. Amalia chose to sit out in favor of finding her sister.

She was as anxious as she'd been when speaking to her children. They had gotten the point almost immediately. Aemond had asked for clarification on the supposed 'bastardy' and she'd reminded him of the same facts she spouted around the court— Queen Aemma was born an Arryn, Rhaenys was a Baratheon. Ser— no, Lord— Harwin Strong was in Harrenhal now. None of it truly mattered when it was Ser Laenor who parented the boys.

She hoped Alicent's leaving— if indeed that was the only solution— would be a comfort to Laenor as well. The maids that served Alicent were questioned since Amalia learned of her whispering to Aemond. Apparently, Alicent had told Laenor to 'keep trying' and that he might one day have a son who looked like him. Somehow, Alicent had convinced herself that none would reprimand her so long as she was the Master of Ships' wife and sister to the Queen. She had a pattern of overusing this privilege.

"The Queen." The guards bowed to her and stepped aside to allow her into Alicent's apartments. Alyrie looked up shyly— the girl was often silent, and seldom spoke up much with adults. Amalia wished she could ever get a moment alone with Alyrie, but Alicent was too attached to her only child.

"Sister," greeted Alicent. There was no warmth in her tone. She must have known what Amalia was there to do. To one of her handmaidens, she asked, "Take Alyrie to her septa. It is time for her lessons."

Obediently, the little girl stood and accepted the lady's hand. The woman— Nora— took care not to look at Amalia, though she was one of her informants. Alyrie peered at Amalia as she passed, but made no objection. Sometimes, Amalia worried for that girl. Something about her reminded her of Helaena, perhaps those bouts of silence or the way she watched and listened more than she spoke.

Alicent stared back at Amalia as if bored. "Is Aemond well? I have heard talk the Maester's poultices bring him ill."

"He is improving," said Amalia. "His skin remains irritated and his balance appears to have need of re-establishment. But you know I am not here to discuss Aemond's health. Rather, what led to this. I know you've been whispering to my children."

Alicent said, "I have been telling them only the truth." She did not even have the decency to deny it. So, she knew very well that she'd been doing something wrong, something Amalia wouldn't like, something that compromised her own niece and nephews. She did not care even an ounce. "If you will not tell them and if you will bar Father from returning, then someone must prepare Aegon."

How blind is everyone? Aegon doesn't want to be prepared. If you told Aegon you wanted him to be King, he would laugh and say it will never happen. He'd more likely offer Helaena as a candidate than seize it himself.

"You're a fool if you think that prepares him at all," said Amalia. "Oh, yes, let us teach him to fling about the word 'bastard.' That certainly will prepare him more than long scrolls about politics." Amalia moved closer, fingertips pressed together. "As you do Father's bidding, have you never thought more into why he and I ceased to see eye-to-eye?"

Alicent scoffed. "I know the tale. You would not accept his truths. You foolishly bend to Rhaenyra's well. Even still she manipulates you into defending her brood of plain-featured bastard sons."

Amalia's gaze darkened, her jaw tight. "I am the Queen, Alicent. I could have Viserys take your tongue for that. I have guards of my own who would gladly do it if I asked it of them. You forget that while we are comely, we too are plain-featured compared to the Targaryens. But I am not here to discuss bastardy, in fact. I am here to say that you, too, have been manipulated. By Father. The same way he manipulated me. Have you ever asked yourself why I became Queen? Why that precipitated this disagreement with Father, his removal from the court?"

She looked annoyed, as if this was not worth her time. "You wished to protect Rhaenyra in her hour of greatest need. You spoke often with the King and he chose you for his wife. Say plainly what you will tell me, Amalia— you will flaunt your power in my face to tell me I must go. You push me away simply because I disagree with you." She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Gods, what my life has come to. I've not once pretended to be satisfied with it. Mayhaps I would have fared better if I'd agreed with Rhaenyra the day we spoke about her father's marriage to you."

She hadn't said so plainly, but Amalia knew exactly which conversation she meant. The one where Rhaenyra had called her a 'whore.' Never before had Amalia wished to strike any of her siblings, but now she wanted to backhand Alicent across both cheeks for insinuating that she believed her sister was a hateful whore.

"You know nothing about that," said Amalia coldly. "In fact, Alicent, you do not seem to know anything about what you are perpetuating. You are a woman grown and yet you behave like a stupid child."

Those words might've given the slap Amalia did not reach out to give. "You have an anger in you, Alicent," she continued, moving closer. Alicent backed away ever so slightly. "An anger you never explored. I think from the age of six you resented that Rhaenyra had a mother when we lost ours. At fifteen, you resented that in the wake of her own loss, you were still not equals. She became heir to the Iron Throne and you remained a simple Hightower girl. You were jealous of her confidence, of her power, of the way she was given attention you did not receive. Yet you know nothing— nothing— of what was going on where you couldn't see."

"I saw and heard everything she did with her privilege," sneered Alicent, though low enough that Amalia's guards would not hear. "How she shirked her duties constantly. She told me how she'd surrendered her virtue. She would not say who and I had hoped she jested. She swore on her mother that it was nothing of consequence yet I knew, I knew something was not right. I told Father and she drank the tea, she drank the bloody tea. Then I learn from Ser Criston... she coerced him, she could have cost him his White Cloak, his head. She did not care, she did care even once. Then she went and whored herself out to Ser Harwin and sired bastards to be heirs to the throne. Father was right about her, she was irresponsible. She does not deserve to be heir to the throne, how can you not see it?!"

"Your anger with Rhaenyra gave you no right to attempt indoctrination of my children into these treasons. You say to me that perhaps you'd have fared better if you agreed when she called me a whore... and you think her a whore now... but have you ever once thought of the circumstances that made it all so?"

Alicent threw her hands up. "How else will you find a way to excuse Rhaenyra now?"

Amalia seethed, "Listen, you foolish girl. You do not see the way we are moved like pawns by the men that surround us. Do not pretend with me— there is little love between you and Tyland. He uses you as much as father used me. As much as Rhaenyra has been used and put into difficult positions. Father did not want Daemon to be heir and so he manipulated Viserys into naming Rhaenyra heir. He forced her into a position she never wanted and then turned the other way to have her set aside the moment Aegon was born."

She admitted, "Rhaenyra was reckless, yes, she instigated a relationship with Ser Criston where she should not have. Yet Viserys and Otto and all the men did nothing to teach her better. They let her be pestered by men wanting marriage proposals, sexualizing her and giving her ideas of seizing autonomy where one could not gain it, not with them at the helm. They knew she was easy prey and naught was done to protect her. Ser Criston was older, he knew she was being immature. Yet he did not deny her. He did not tell Viserys and have her be reprimanded. He leapt into bed with her then felt regret when she did not give into his fantasies. He cannot claim any innocence."

"But—"

"Do not interrupt me." Amalia glared down at her sister. "I am the Queen and I have not finished speaking. I will tell you now why this happened, why it is I that stands here and not you."

Alicent frowned in confusion. Amalia explained, "Father forced me. He forced me to go and see Viserys, to comfort him. To visit him often, to help nurse the idea of making Rhaenyra heir. To offer myself as a friend that would inevitably incite lust in him and convince him to sire more children on me as if I were a broodmare. And do you know why I did not resist? Because Father said that if I did not do it, he would send me to wed Borros Baratheon and send you to Viserys's apartments in my place."

Her sister did not speak, she scarcely breathed. Amalia had no way of being certain if Alicent was believing her or not. Believe me. You know how Father can be, the way he schemes. When did he ever attend to you as I did? When was he ever concerned with your wellbeing? We were objects to him, Alicent, see it. Amalia's eyes sparkled with tears remembering the day her father forced her to put on her mother's dresses for the first time. The day she lost her innocence, the day she stopped wanting to wear her hair free, the day she stopped putting on dresses that turned her into the sexual object he needed her to be.

She murmured, "How could I have allowed him to put you, a girl of fifteen, in a room with a grieving man who was driven by a desire for children? A desire that killed his wife? Aemma was a mother to me and I was horrified and sickened. But I protected you. I did not say this to you before, I did not wish for you to hate Father, I wanted you to be at peace and be happy. Yet you do not see that you are a woman used by men as we all have been."

She begged her, she pleaded, "We must break free, we must do what is right. Cease these whispers to my children. Help me, Alicent. If you still despise Rhaenyra, then you need not do more than stay silent on the matter. I will arrange for you a place where you and Alyrie can be safe. War will come and I cannot bear to imagine you siding with Father. I cannot imagine you turning your back on a girl who was once your sister, your best friend. Rhaenyra will never be accepted because she is a woman. In the end, rumors of bastardy matter not. Where do you stand, Alicent? With Father, who would've whored you out to Viserys? Or with me, with Alyrie, with every woman who has been used and abused and would gain much from Rhaenyra receiving what is rightfully hers?"

Alicent blinked several times. She looked around— for what? Amalia wondered it while Alicent's eyes darted around the room. Was she searching for someone that would tell her that Amalia was lying? Surely Otto had called her a liar before. Was she searching for someone to say Amalia wasn't? If Alicent was waiting for that, then she hadn't understood at all.

She didn't know what her sister was thinking or feeling. Would she get it? Would she pretend it wasn't important? Was she too far gone? Did her hatred for Rhaenyra transcend any ability to see how much greater the premise of this war was? Many times, Alicent had erroneously believed that their father wanted Rhaenyra replaced as heir because she was unfit— she'd never seen it staring her in the face that the simple fact Rhaenyra was a woman was going to work against her no matter what she did.

Amalia was sure that even if Rhaenyra had been well-mannered at every single point, even if she had married Laenor of her own volition, even if she had been a maiden on her wedding night, even if she had three trueborn Velaryon sons, none of it would matter. Rhaenys had faced it years ago and she'd known it from the moment Aemma died. The goal was always for a man to be on the Iron Throne... the only exception being if he was somehow set to be as awful as Maegor. Amalia did not believe Daemon had ever actually been at that level.

That's when she saw it. The anger in her eyes. It could not be a good thing, for the sweet Alicent that she needed on her side would have cried and apologized before turning to rage. This version of her, this angry and vengeful Alicent, had been growing for years and years, was not one to let go so easily. Amalia knew then that Alicent could not support Rhaenyra when she still resented her so.

"Father knew the truth," rationalized Alicent. Please, listen to yourself my darling, my sweet girl, listen before you speak and you will see. Father has robbed you of your clever mind. He has made you his pawn. "That is why he had to urge the King to remarry, that is why he knew the importance of someone who could give Viserys sons. He knew Rhaenyra was never going to be a good Queen. She was better than Daemon but there was need for someone to be better than Rhaenyra as well. Even if what you say is true, Rhaenyra should never have gone to Ser Criston or Ser Harwin. If she wished to prove herself worthy, she should not have spread her legs—"

This time, Amalia did slap her. It was crisp and rang through the room like a silver platter driven to the floor. Alicent's head whipped to the side, and she raised a hand to hold herself away from Amalia.

"How quickly you put down other women," said Amalia darkly. "Any woman who is not you is flawed, is that not so? Any woman who is not chaste and innocent is a whore to you. You want all that you cannot have. Does your affection for Ser Criston— perhaps Ser Harwin— stretch so far that in your jealousies you'd refuse to see the truth?"

"Rhaenyra brought this on herself," whispered Alicent, eyes still downcast. She was hurting from the slap. She would not soon forget it. "As have you. You were assigned a duty for your family. I would have done what was asked of me."

You say that, but because you have forgotten who you were at five-and-ten. You have forgotten what it was like to be so happy and free. You cannot seriously believe you'd have been fine enduring that man in your bed, those babes in your belly, that pain and fear five times over. I could have died having any of the five. Viserys would have put another five in me if his health hadn't declined. Even now I still await my bleed, I could have a sixth babe in my belly. You could hardly tolerate one. How would you have truly liked to be the King's next sacrifice?

"You forget the duty I performed for this family from the moment Mother died," said Amalia. "Perhaps Aemma was right. I should have left you all to fend for yourselves with a father that never would have paid you attention lest you were of use to him."

She straightened up, leaving no room for any mournful looks to Alicent. "All that I have said, sister, and you refuse to see how you carry on Father's bitterness and isolate yourself from all those you once loved. Your words caused my son harm. You inserted yourself where you did not belong and my son could have lost more than an eye for it– he could have lost his life if he'd fallen onto that rock in a different way, whether the children meant that to happen or not. If you will not see reason, then I cannot find it in myself to be lenient with you. Your stubbornness is affecting the safety of my family and I will not stand for it."

Alicent kept that defiant look, as if she could handle whatever Amalia was about to throw her way. Amalia said, "Lady Alicent, as your Queen, I declare you will be sent..." None of this will be right. She will hate me and scheme anywhere. So long as she has a raven nearby, she can write to the Lannisters and my father. "...to Casterly Rock." Better there than Oldtown where her father would offer her a shoulder to cry on. At least until he was exhausted of addressing her emotional needs and turned her into a weapon.

Alicent accepted her fate with grace, at least. "As my Queen commands. I will prepare Alyrie—"

"No." She will hate me more for this, but I cannot trust that girl anywhere near her. Tyland is not filled with rage like Alicent. Him, I can sway to be my creature someday. I will offer him all he has and more when Rhaenyra is Queen. "Alyrie will remain here as my ward, to serve as a companion to my children. She will be close to her father and near enough to accompany Helaena and myself to Dragonstone, where we will support the Princesses Baela and Rhaena in their grief. When she is of age, Alyrie will be arranged a good marriage. My decision is final."

The look on Alicent's face spoke of fury and prayers for the Stranger to come and take Amalia now. It was a vicious thing, she knew, to take a mother from her child. To saddle her own sister with loneliness. Yet, Amalia could see no other way to punish Alicent whilst protecting Alyrie from the same vile influence that Otto had managed to use against Alicent. How could Amalia stand idly by while Alicent let Alyrie believe herself a servant to men, worth nothing on her own?

"You will rue this day," said Alicent angrily. "You will see."

I almost wish to send you to the Black Cells. Rhaenyra would be loath to see you speaking to me this way now that she knows the truth— even she did not react as you do. And Daemon, well, Daemon would have had your tongue for threatening me.

"Goodbye, Alicent," murmured Amalia. "I should hope that if this will continue, that we never see one another again."

For if we do, you will end up like Larys Strong.