Alicent awoke in a pool of blood, with Caraxes a red speck on the horizon and her maid's screaming in her ear. She did cry, because she wasn't sure how else she should react. The thought of an unborn child dying within her was horrifying, though she was somewhat detached from the fact that the child was hers. Part of her longed for a child, a companion who would love her unconditionally, all for her own, like Daena had her perfect little prince and princess from her otherwise dire marriage. A more vicious part relished that yet another of her father's supposedly foolproof plans had gone up in smoke, that the King would not use her body for his longed-for third child just yet.

It was obvious what had happened. Her visit from the maester the previous day had shown that the babe was otherwise healthy, and looking back, the wine had tasted somewhat strange. She wanted to curse the Queen's name for the evil act, scratch those purple eyes out and tear at her silver hair, make her hurt and bleed as she had done to Alicent. She also wanted to kiss her as she had done the night before, desperate, punishing and cruel. If her feelings, whatever they were, had been strong then, it was nothing compared to now.

"Why in the name of the Seven were you in Daena Targaryen's chambers to accept a cup of poisoned wine?" Her father demanded, when she let slip how she was sure of the culprit.

"She would have poisoned me whether I was in her chambers or not," Alicent said, listless, merely wanting to be left in peace with her conflicted thoughts; to curl up and cry, to smash a cabinet of crockery, to pray on her knees til the light grew dim, to ride outside the city and scream as loud as she could. "She knows you, Father. Should my son have lived, her own would not have been long for the world,"

Her stomach was cramping painfully, rags still soaking up the blood between her legs since the maester had left, but she had gotten dressed to meet her father, stood to face him rather than laying in bed as they told her she should.

"Yet you are fool enough to accept the cup from her own hand?" The Hand of the King refused to concede an inch. "I am starting to believe that you have a death wish, Alicent - that, or you have grown mentally deficient. Or," His eyes narrowed. "That you do not wish to bear the King's child,"

Alicent laughed, bitter and hollow. "If I did not, then you would be the one to blame," She would never have dared to speak to her father in such a way before all of this. Now, Alicent found she did not care so much about his opinions of her, given that even when she had been the perfect daughter, he had so little regard for her as to whore her out to the King for a scheme that had not even worked. "I would proudly bear Viserys' trueborn children. Carrying his bastard was less of an honour,"

Her father grew very still. "You went to Daena willingly, didn't you - the one person you knew would help to kill your child without question,"

So taken aback by his words, Alicent could not even speak.

"And what did you offer her to keep the secret?" The man continued, eyes narrow and fierce and spiteful. "Did you let that unnatural harlot drag you down in sin with her, use and corrupt you as she has corrupted so many women before?"

"Get out,"

Otto Hightower blinked in surprise, though not for long, drawing himself up to tower over her, a dangerous look on his face. "What did you say, daughter?"

"Get out," Alicent repeated, feeling more frantic by the second. "I do not wish to look at you. Get out now, or I shall have the King forbid you from seeing me," Dimly, she wondered if he would strike her, if the world would end, for speaking to him like this was so unthinkable to the girl she had once been.

He laughed, disbelieving. "I am Viserys' Hand, girl - "

"And I've done my job well, just as you wanted," She stood her ground, her tone less even than she would have liked, more akin to a shrill, hysterical girl than Daena Targaryen, though she supposed that alarmed her father more. Alicent had always been sensible, never shrill. "Viserys adores me. If I told him it was you who poisoned me, to spare the shame of a bastard, he might even believe me. I won't do that, because you're my father, but I will unless you leave right now,"

Her father's expression turned ugly. "I don't know what has gotten into you - "

She laughed again, and this time there must have been something of the Queen in it, for Otto Hightower actually stepped back; he was just a man, she realised, a weak, flawed, pathetic man who did not deserve her devotion nor her fear. "Are you so blind? My first child should have been a joyous celebration, a lord's heir, but you have entwined me in Targaryen politics and all I have is the bloody remains of a king's bastard, murdered by a vengeful queen before he could leave the womb. My reputation is in tatters just as bloody. Daena might have killed my child, but she did not corrupt me. You did that, Father, you did all of it,"

He did leave, after that, without another word.

Then Alicent, for once, did just as she wished. First, she threw the glass on her table at the wall with all her strength, enough to shatter it into a hundred pieces, a scream tearing from her throat. Then she started to sob, curled around her painfully cramping stomach, cursing both the Queen and her father and the whole damned world. Then the King sent for her - did he know yet? - but she sent back her sincerest apologies, claiming sickness, though left her rooms just in case, heading for the sept. It was its own kind of sweet punishment, feeling the weight of the stares of holy men and women on her, her knees hurting against the stone floor as the hours passed, thoughts of Daena Targaryen, her wicked smile and sinful fingers refusing to be driven from her head.

*

Viserys laughed, when they first told him his wife was in the Stepstones.

"War?" He chortled. "Very good, maester. For a moment I almost believed you, though even my wretched sister would not be so foolish as that," 

There had been precious few jokes, of late. Alicent's miscarriage at Daena's hands had turned his mood darker than it had ever been. And of course she had run off with the children before he found out, ever free from responsibility and consequence. He had never before believed Otto's claims about his sister's worse tendencies - she was wild, stubborn, reckless and carelessly cruel, but never evil, not like this - though now he found it easier to consider. How could she be so selfish as to refuse to give him a third child herself, yet deprive another of the honour so brutally? Poor Alicent had done nothing to her to deserve such spite!

The maester did not crack a smile. Nor did the rest of the council. "Regrettably, I do not jest, Your Grace," He said. "Word has come from Driftmark. Lord Corlys set off for the Stepstones three days past, with a fleet of warships and the Blood Wyrm,"

Viserys's smile faded from his face. "Seven hells," He sat down heavily in his chair. "She - I - seven hells, what do I do with her, Mellos? She could be killed,"

He might be more furious with Daena than he ever had been at anyone, but she was still his sister. His wife. The idea of her being shot down from Caraxes like Rhaenys was shot down in Dorne, her body crumpled and bloodied in the mud, to be torn apart by swords and axes, did not bear thinking about.

"Not to mention, Your Grace," Otto said, his tone grave. "This war is unsanctioned by the crown. Corlys Velaryon put his case before the Iron Throne, and you yourself turned down committing men, weapons or even public support, so as not to earn the ire of the Triarchy. For your own Queen to be fighting on his side... it is an unfortunate message to send. A double standard, even,"

"All respect, Lord Hand," Lyman Beesbury spoke up. "It makes little sense for His Grace to have denied any support but then send his wife to fend for herself. More subtle gestures could have been made than sending a large red dragon, ridden by the Queen herself - hardly a discreet woman - if our intention was to be underhand about it,"

"Excellent," Jasper Wylde said dryly. "So whilst we will not be seen as indecisive cravens, it is plain for all the world to see that the Queen has gone rogue, and acts outside her husband's authority with everyone powerless to stop her,"

Viserys put his head in his hands. "How on earth do we even begin to get her back? We cannot afford to anger the Velaryons any further than we have already by refusing to send aid. They are the house of the future queen, for gods' sake. We cannot sanction them for allowing her - as if they would be able to stop her, besides,"

"A wise decision, of course, Your Grace," Otto said. "We will have to appeal directly to the Queen herself, which, as you can understand, will be a delicate process. First of all, however, at the very least I suggest that the royal children should return to King's Landing whilst their mother plays at war,"

Viserys nodded, weary. "Yes, you are right, Otto. Send Ser Criston - Rhaenyra adores him. It is well past time for her and Baelon to come home,"

He missed them both greatly, missed Rhaenyra's bright smiles and charm, missed Baelon's mischief and boyish grin. Daena had taken them simply to spite him, seeing how she had left them with Rhaenys on Driftmark at the earliest opportunity. She loved them in the way she loved anything; fiercely, but on her own terms, at her own convenience.

Perhaps Alicent could be somewhat more of a gentle, caring mother figure to the children, in her absence. It might even soothe her mind after the loss of her own babe. Despite what Otto told him about her being in a more unstable, delicate state than usual, Alicent had been so brave, of late, never once complaining or weeping to him about the loss, though he was sure it pained her. She remained as delightful company as ever. After this meeting he may have to visit her, to ease his mind after such dreadful news.

*

Alicent and Viserys dined together that evening, talking of meaningless things, a relief to him from the stresses of court, and a welcome distraction from any thoughts of his sister.

"What is this, my love?" Viserys frowned during the second course, picking up an odd piece of jewellery from the table, where it had fallen from behind a stack of books. It was an earring - and there was its pair, still hidden - made of silver, jet and ruby, a far larger, more bold piece than Alicent typically favoured. In Targaryen colours, too, which she knew well enough to avoid. Viserys had gifted her heaps of jewels, of course, but never anything that symbolised his house. That would be crossing the line.

Her eyes widened a fraction in surprise. "Oh. I don't know. How strange," She moved closer, taking the earrings from his hand and examining them. "They are not mine - I would never wear your house colours, Viserys, let alone something so... garish. I don't know how they ended up here,"

As he thought; she was as confused as he was. "I know exactly whose they are," He said, tone rising in irritation. "Not only has Daena taken your child from you but also left a reminder of herself in your very chambers!"

"You think the Queen left them here?" Alicent said, understandably shocked. "Why would she be in here - ?" She broke off, glancing at the floor. "Oh. On purpose,"

"My sister, as you have learnt, can be remarkably cruel," He took the earrings back, imagining exactly how they would fall from Daena's ears, set starkly against her silver hair, swaying as she laughed. "That was but a spiteful joke of hers. I will remove them for you, my dear. No need to dwell on her any longer,"

Alicent did seem a little out of sorts after that, though he could not blame her for it.

*

"What do you mean she sent you away?" Viserys frowned at Ser Criston Cole, knight of the Kingsguard and his daughter's beloved sworn shield. He had returned empty-handed from Driftmark, no sign of Rhaenyra or Baelon.

"Princess Rhaenys," The man said through gritted teeth. "Informed me that the Queen had entrusted the Prince and Princess to her care, and thus she was unable to give them up. She threatened to have me escorted from Driftmark unless I returned of my own volition. My sincerest apologies, Your Grace, for my lapse of duty,"

Of course Rhaenys was more loyal to Daena than the king who stole her throne. Never mind that Daena had stolen it for him. Though perhaps that was the reason why; she had more respect for his sister than she ever had done for him. He had wondered, on occasion, that if Daena had been born the son and Viserys the daughter, there may have been a match between the two of them, Daena and Rhaenys. Purely political, of course; Rhaenys being a woman would not have stopped his sister, if she admired her in that sense. The two of them would have been formidable. Rhaenys was a strong enough character to reign in Daena, and shrewd enough to rule where his sister would only conquer. 

"It was a direct order from her King!" Viserys said, anger covering his insecurity. "And the children's father! How has Rhaenys the audacity to send a servant of the crown away like a whipped dog? Must all Targaryen women be disobedient thorns in my side?"

Gods only knew what sort of ideas Rhaenys was filling his children's heads with. Likely only adding to what Daena had already started. The Red Keep was Rhaenyra and Baelon's home; they should be here, in court, with their father, given their mother did not care enough to remain with them.

"What would you have me do, Your Grace?" Cole asked. He understood, at least, some of Viserys' frustration. Even shared it, from the look on his face.

"Take half of the Kingsguard," He said. "And more ships, filled with guardsmen and knights. I will not be kept from my children, my heirs, on Daena's selfish whim and Rhaenys' senseless desire to humour her. I am the King, for Seven's sake, and this defiance cannot go unpunished even if it is from my own kin! You have my permission to get the children back how you see fit, Ser Criston. Do not harm the Velaryons, of course, but do not take no for an answer. Rhaenys cannot, and will not, escalate this further,"

*

The ship did not return. Word was sent from Driftmark that the children were gone, led astray by Laena and Laenor Velaryon, flying south on dragonback. To Daena, to the Stepstones, to war.

Upon hearing this, Viserys - who had begun regretting his decision, made out of anger, fearing he was overreacting and not eager to face Rhaenys' anger for sending armed knights to her shores - became glad he had acted as he had done. Ser Criston would not rest until his wayward children were home and safe, and far from the dangers of war. The idea of Rhaenyra and Baelon facing an enemy like the Triarchy sickened him even more than the idea of Daena fighting; he did not once doubt his sister's brutal desire for bloodshed, but the children were, well, children.

Perhaps, once Rhaenyra and Baelon were in Ser Criston's care, Daena would have no choice but to come home with them. She would not come quietly, of course, but better she be dragged back here, furious, because that was where her children were, than remain fighting this ridiculous war of Corlys Velaryon's any longer. Viserys would have his family back under one roof again, safe within the Keep like they were supposed to be, before Daena's pride and spite refused to allow him the small happiness of Alicent, where he endured a hundred such humiliations from her.

Yet once again, weeks later, Ser Criston returned furious and empty-handed, aside from a ragged, stained letter that looked as though it had already been crumpled in an armoured fist.

"They are gone, Your Grace," He said through gritted teeth. "Word reached them ahead of our arrival. Caraxes and Vhagar were in the midst of battle as we approached - the flames could be seen from leagues away, and the smoke of the now crippled Triarchy fleet - yet Caraxes and Syrax were seen flying east not an hour later. Upon reaching the shore, Corlys Velaryon handed me this letter from the Queen,"

Viserys,
I refuse to entertain this farce of you sending ships and mediocre knights to chase me around Westeros any longer. Corlys is now in a good position in the Stepstones, not that you would care, and several protected trade routes have now reopened - they do not need me so pressingly any longer, and have Vhagar and Seasmoke besides. I have taken the children - they will be safe with me and Caraxes. Rhaenyra and Baelon will enjoy their young years, rather than be stifled by the weight of court and expectation, and will be all the better for it, more worldly and experienced. More importantly, Baelon will live to see his tenth birthday away from Otto Hightower's scheming, and Rhaenyra will not be married off whilst still a child herself for the sake of men's ambition, as I was. I will return by this day in three years, perhaps sooner, when we have had our fill of our travels.
Tell Alicent it was your babe I killed, not hers, and that she would do much better without your paws all over her, or her father hissing in her ear.
Daena Targaryen, Rider of Caraxes, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

*

The King had not smiled quite the same, since his wife's letter, which he refused to share with another soul. When asked, he merely replied that the Queen would be back when she saw fit. Any questions earned his ire in ways that the ordinarily genial King had never displayed before.

Alicent felt for him on some level, knowing how he loved his children, and even his sister, underneath it all. Her own bitterness grew; once again, Daena Targaryen was free to do exactly as she wished, the exception to every other woman in Westeros. Though at least, with the Queen gone, the rest of the court made more of an effort to ingratiate themselves with her. She might not be the Queen, might have a ruined reputation, but she had the King's ear, and that was valuable to many. More so with the threat of Daena gone.

"I am with child again," She told Viserys hesitantly, wary of the reaction.

Viserys smiled genuinely for the first time since Ser Criston had returned without the Prince and Princess, his kindly face lighting up. "Oh that is wonderful news, my dear,"

Alicent was still conflicted about bearing the King's bastard, of course, though this time she was more prepared. If anything, it was a blessing that Daena had ended her first pregnancy, for she would not have been a good mother to that baby. Now, it felt more like her own choice. She wanted this child, really wanted it, and loved it too. There was no doubt in her heart about that.

*

"Twins!" Viserys exclaimed, delighted, as he entered the birthing chambers to find an exhausted but smiling Alicent sitting up in bed, cradling two tiny forms in her arms.

"A boy and a girl," She was a beautiful sight, bathed in the glow of new motherhood. He remembered Daena after her first birth, irritable and hostile, barely paying Rhaenyra any mind for the first week, treating her like a nuisance.

"I would give them Valyrian names," He said. "Even if they must bear the Waters surname, and will not have a dragon egg. Though not the names of any that have come before them. I had in mind Aemond for a boy - and how about you choose a name for our daughter?"

"As you wish, Viserys," Alicent smiled. "Aemond is a fine name," She hesitated. "I have always wanted a daughter named Helen, after my dear mother, though I suppose that is not Valyrian enough,"

"Helaena," He said decisively. "We shall call her Helaena and you will have your wish, my lady,"

*

Do let me know what you think of this chapter. I wasn't planning on an Alicent/Viserys one at all but it seemed a little cheap not to include their reactions to everything else in the story, and I do enjoy writing Alicent growing apart from her father and becoming more disillusioned. Her feelings towards Daena are of course complex, a mix of desire, admiration and hate. She is getting close with Viserys as he is her lifeline - through him she has some level of influence and freedom from her father. Next time will be an overview of Daena's travels with her children, something I want to devote one chapter to but not linger on excessively. Also I can't lie this chapter made me want to write a female Viserys story with Rhaenys/Daemon haha.