Chapter Text
When Harleigh agreed to follow the two princes back to their home, she had hoped that the journey would give a poor tear-ridden Aerea the necessary time to recover from the news of her mother. The little ghost had been struck silent for most of their ride, much to Harleigh’s worry. But that only lasted up until they saw a large city appear on the horizon.
Prince Aemond called it ‘King’s Landing’, otherwise known as the home to the ruling family of Westeros. Prince Daemon, on the other hand, had not been so poetic, describing the majestic city as a shit-smelling cesspit.
The closer they got to the city, the more Harleigh began to see (and smell) just why the older prince had called it so.
As they landed right at its gates, there already was a crowd beginning to form. People she could only assume were outside of Aerea’s family, based on their lack of distinct coloring. Still, she could already tell most of them were men wearing strange robes, bald, and already poised at Caraxes’ side as soon as the younger beast landed.
“My lady,” one of their older men–a dragonkeeper, Prince Daemon offhandedly mentioned—was shouting from the nearest crowd, eyeing Balerion with a cautious gaze. Harleigh had just slid down from his shoulder when she realized that he was, in fact, talking to her. “Let us take your dragon. We can chain him down with the others.”
“You dare—“
Before Balerion could outright attack the bald keeper, Harleigh felt her own temper rise at the downright abhorrent request. Flashes of Gringotts and a sickly-looking dragon flooded her mind as she barely held back from jinxing the man herself. “I’m sorry…but what did you just say?”
The man simply repeated himself, no longer staring dubiously at Balerion, but rather condescendingly at Harleigh instead. “We must chain your dragon down, my lady. It would be dangerous to have him escape. He may eat the livestock or the common folk.”
Sweet little Aerea, who had been standing at her side, looked absolutely stricken. ”Bal…chains?”
“No chains,” Harleigh reiterated, uncaring of the old man’s reddening face. “If this is how you plan to treat Balerion, I’m not having any of you so much as get within ten feet of him. He’s not just some beast for you to lock up at your will!”
“You do not know enough about these creatures to make that decision, girl. Just because he has not snapped at you yet, doesn’t mean he won’t soon. He is a dragon, not a pet.”
Before Harleigh could retort, or worse, outright attack the man for such a suggestion, Prince Daemon strode over to intercept. “Dragonkeeper, I would suggest you take a step back. You do not know what you’re dealing with.”
”I would disagree, my prince,” the keeper tried to argue back, still haughty but more subdued in front of the prince. “It has been our duty to care for your family’s dragons since the time of King Jahaerys.”
“And Balerion has been gone for just as long, if not even longer than you dragonkeepers have been alive. He answers to no one but his rider,” Daemon snapped in return. “I highly doubt a beast as old as he would allow anyone to approach right now. But by all means, please, do try risking your life if that is what you wish. If something does happen…”
That at least finally got the keeper to back down somewhat. Balerion huffed, glancing at the Prince with approval. ”If these peasants think of separating me from the speaker any time soon, I’ll burn them to a crisp.”
Aerea seemed to find Balerion’s words silly, though Harleigh highly doubted the little ghost knew just how serious her partner was about the threat. It didn’t lessen the witch’s panic at Balerion’s recklessness whatsoever.
“No one is taking you away, Balerion. Look,” Harleigh turned to Prince Daemon, unwilling to move out of the way between the dragon and everyone else there, “I know I’m supposed to meet your King, but Balerion isn’t going to let me leave his side any time soon.”
”Or ever.”
What mattered right now was making sure Balerion didn’t get all trigger-happy around the people around them. Luckily, Daemon didn’t look at all insulted at her request. “Not to worry. I’ve sent Prince Aemond back to the castle to inform them of our…situation, which means my brother should be here soon.”
She would have sighed in relief had Daemon not started pointedly looking over her shoulder with distant amusement. ”In the meantime, if you could keep Balerion from burning the Dragonkeepers…”
For Merlin’s sake. What the bloody hell was that overgrown lizard doing now?
”Balerion!”
“Balerion, the Black Dread…lives!”
It was the only thing anyone could talk about as her father’s retinue left for the gates. And to be honest, Rhaenyra couldn’t blame them.
When her younger half-brother had arrived with news of the Black Dread finding a new master, she had been expecting someone bearing features much like hers. Maybe stark white locks and some variation of Valyrian bejeweled-colored eyes. But as she hastened to the Dragonpit alongside her father, she was met with the exact opposite.
A gaze of startling green so bright that it seemed almost piercing. And her hair…when has there ever been a dragon rider with hair as dark as night?
“That must be her. The beast’s new rider,” someone nearby whispered in awe. Yet barely any approached the unassuming girl. And for good reason.
Only time would tell if she was a friend or foe.
Seeing none of Alicent’s own children amidst their group gave her some comfort, at least. Knowing that none of their children would take part in this gave Rhaenyra the focus she needed for this meeting with the mysterious rider.
Her more cynical side, the same part of her that had sent Laenor away, wondered what this would mean for her own family. Would seeing another rider without the typical Targaryen coloring be beneficial to her own claim? To her sons?
Or would this woman’s sudden appearance be the one that doomed her claim to the throne?
Rhaenyra watched as the woman approached, wearing a bright red cloak that seemed to separate her from the family of blacks and greens. For a moment, Rhaenyra wondered whether that shade of red would look better amongst her own brood of black or the greens of Otto’s.
True to Daemon’s word, his family arrived in less than an hour. Just enough time for her to calm Balerion down before the aforementioned group finally arrived at the gates.
Notably within the group was this strange color scheme of green and black. And while Harleigh was somewhat intrigued by the clear division between this supposed family, it was the King himself that caught Harleigh’s eye.
Given how inhumanely beautiful the Targaryen people seemed to be, Harleigh expected to be met with a King of similar stature. Instead, she was met with the pitiful form of a man who looked more dead than alive.
“King Viserys Targaryen, First of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!” A powerful slew of titles, no doubt, but definitely not one she expected to pair with the image of a man clearly riddled with rot.
For Merlin’s sake, the King could barely even hold onto his cane.
“You must be the rider we’ve all been hearing about. Lady Potter, yes?” Viserys greeted, eyes still sharp despite the rest of his body being unable to keep up. “It’s an honor to meet Balerion’s new chosen rider.”
“Potter. That is a peasant name, is that not?” A whisper called out, but from where, Harleigh could not tell.
“Lady Potter, it is with great pride that we welcome you to King’s Landing. I am King Viserys. This is my daughter, Princess Rhaenyra,” Viserys introduced first, pointing at the white-haired woman to his right. The brunette at his left frowned slightly, but such went unnoticed by King. “My wife, Queen Alicent. And my Hand, Otto Hightower.”
Harleigh noted how the Hand at Viserys’ left, stepped closer to his wife. It was clear that the two were close, if not actually related to each other.
The king’s eyes moved to the dragon at her back with a look of awe, one that did not escape Harleigh’s or the rest of the King’s entourage. “Prince Aemond has already informed me that you found the Black Dread in Old Valyria. But tell me, Lady Harleigh, how exactly were you able to find him there?”
Before Harleigh could speak to admit that she honestly didn’t know anything , she felt a tug on her leg that could only be Aerea. “Tell them you felt a calling. A calling from Balerion himself,” the ghost whispered.
“I...felt a call,” Harleigh started, swallowing nervously as she did. Let it be said that even now, she could still feel the back of her hand tingle every time she struggled with lies. “And when I followed it, it led me to this ruined city where the air was too poisonous to breathe. It was there I found Balerion sleeping.”
“So you went to Old Valyria, survived long enough to find a dragon, then somehow convinced it to bring you all the way across the ocean and back here. To Westeros,” Otto recounted carefully, clear disbelief in his voice. Amidst the rest of the white-haired family, his graying tufts of brown hair and dark green coat made him stand out like a sore thumb. “That’s fortunately auspicious, don’t you think?”
“Otto, don’t-“ Viserys tried to call out, only to fall into a coughing fit. One that his suspiciously young wife immediately moved forward to aid with. “Thank you, Alicent.”
“The bond between dragon and rider is not something you can question, Sir Otto,” Rhaenyra spoke, drawing Harleigh’s focus to her own bright starlight locks and brilliant blue gaze. Standing beside Daemon, Harleigh could only guess that the King’s daughter must also have been Prince Daemon’s aforementioned wife.
But surely the King’s daughter…couldn’t be his brother's…wife, right?
The sharp words and authority in the princess’ voice didn’t seem to faze Otto, however. “Balerion is a Targaryen dragon, is he not? Therefore, he belongs to the royal family.”
Balerion, bless his soul, looked ready to snap at the older man. And much to Harleigh’s exasperation, Aerea didn’t seem to take the man’s implied threat as anything beyond a joke.
Not wanting to start another altercation, Harleigh stepped forward to keep everyone’s eyes on her instead. “Dragons do not belong to anyone, sir,” Harleigh retorted. “They are beings with their own minds and are not meant to be controlled.”
“The Lady Harleigh is right. You had best stay out of Targaryen matters you do not understand,” Daemon snidely remarked as he made his way to Viserys’ side. Rhaenyra immediately reached for his arm as if to hold him back. But that didn’t stop Daemon’s sneer. “Sir Hightower .”
“Even you must admit there is something suspicious about all of this. No one is supposed to be able to withstand the ruins of Old Valyria. Nearly everyone who goes there dies,” Otto pointed out, eyes glaring at the smirking Prince.
“Forgive Lord Otto for his phrasing, but I too have a similar question,” Viserys intoned curiously. “How exactly did you survive your journey through Old Valyria, Lady Harleigh? Last we knew, the land had become near inhospitable. It is said no one could ever survive it.”
Finally, a question she could honestly answer.
“I survived it by using magic, of course.”
A bomb of silence filled the air at her answer. While most of Viserys’ group seemed more shocked than anything, it was Alicent’s look of absolute revulsion and disbelief that concerned Harleigh the most.
She had thought that a family of dragon-riding royals would know of magic. But based on how everyone seemed to be unable to speak at her reveal, she was clearly wrong.
“Apologies, but I thought that as a family with close ties to dragons, you would be familiar with the concept of magic,” Harleigh attempted as an apology. And while she tried to keep her aura non-threatening, she kept her hand at the ready to grab her wand in case something less savory happened.
Daemon didn’t seem as concerned, thankfully. Though, to be fair, both he and Aemond had witnessed her jumping off Balerion’s back with nothing but a simple levitation spell to slow her fall.
Viserys, bless his soul, was the quickest to recover. “No need, Lady Harleigh. It’s just that, while we may have ties to magic through our dragons, we ourselves are unfamiliar with any sort of magic that could have let you survive the dangers of Old Valyria.”
“To be fair, I wouldn’t call it surviving, really. Magic may have let me explore it for a good while, but I highly doubt that even I could withstand that place for long.”
‘Especially with how many ghosts there were.’ As friendly as Aerea was, she highly doubted the others would be the same.
“Still, I never thought I’d live to see the day that I would meet one of your kind. A magic user of Old Valyria,” Viserys noted, quite excitedly. While Harleigh winced at Viserys’ words, she didn’t outright correct him either. “The last magic user of our family was Queen Visenya…I’ve heard stories about magic users, but never did I think that those like you still existed. Tell me, what can you do?”
Harleigh turned to Aerea who was now pulling on her cloak. With a quick whisper that only she and Balerion could hear, Harleigh found herself smiling at the young ghost’s request.
“Let me show you.” Harleigh brandished her wand, and with a quick flick, a burst of light came forth. “ Expecto Patronum. ”
There was no way for Daemon to describe it, except that upon Harleigh’s strange words, he was immediately filled with a feeling of warmth he had never felt before. It was a strange sense of joy and relief, all bundled up into one. So despite having reached for his sword at Harleigh’s sudden magic, he couldn’t help but relax upon feeling the effects of the strange magical light dancing around the room.
From the light, a creature with wings seemed to form. As it made its way across the room, passing by each and every royal family member in the pit, it began to take the form of a–
“—dragon! How wonderful!” Viserys crowed. Even Alicent, who had been repulsed by Harleigh’s words, seemed speechless at the strange light that seemed to bless joy onto everyone there.
Rhaenyra too seemed to be in a similar boat, mouth hanging open as her blue gaze followed the magic light. There was a bright sense of wonder in her eyes that Daemon had not seen for many years. One that he hadn’t realized he had sorely missed until now.
Where had her youthful curiosity, the precious realm’s delight, been all this time?
It was Otto’s gaze, however, that worried Daemon the most. While equally shocked, he was the only one staring at Harleigh with newfound interest. One that made him tense uncomfortably.
He did not like that hungry look in his gaze.
“Amazing!” Viserys cried out as he reached out to touch the dragon. “This magic of yours…I almost feel free of pain.”
Both Rhaenyra and Alicent seemed to pipe up at that. Even Daemon could not deny that he felt some pleasant surprise from his older brother’s words.
“Really, Father? Truly?” “You feel better, my Lord?” At their simultaneous comments, both women glanced at each other only to immediately look away. In Daemon’s eyes, it was uncannily similar to moments of their childhood, one when they were still joined at the hip, and mindless chatter followed their every waking step.
Always speaking over each other, only to realize that they were wanting of the exact same thing.
“This is a Patronus. It is built on happy memories and is capable of ridding one of sadness and despair,” Harleigh explained. While Daemon himself did not find the magic itself as intriguing as his brother did, even he had to admit some interest in Harleigh’s strange abilities. “In some cases, if the memory is strong enough, it is said that it can even cause momentary physical relief.”
“Your magic is…amazing, Lady Potter. And to think that such a gift would manifest in you…the first, since the Age of the Conquerors themselves,” Viserys pondered. The implication was loud and clear enough, however, and shared glances between blacks and greens flew over the sickly king’s head. “Tell me, child, who are your parents?”
“No one important. They died when I was just a babe.” Which was true from what Daemon could tell, leaving Harleigh even more confused at the sudden question. “I’m sorry, but how is that relevant?”
‘It’s relevant because my sick and slightly delusional brother thinks you might actually be family.’ Daemon silently noted, strangely amused at the entire spectacle. In any other situation, Daemon too would have had the same reservations as the Hand. But seeing Otto’s reaction made him want to support the idea all the more, if just to see Otto sputter like a fool.
“I do not think I’ve ever recalled a moment in the past year where I’ve been as…unburdened as I am now,” Viserys smiled sadly, eyes startling clear for once. “I’ve never felt so much hope before.”
“If you would like, I could also try to see what my magic could do for you. I’m not very skilled in the healing arts, but I do know some basics.”
Rhaenyra seemed absolutely bolstered at Harleigh’s offer. The only one who could’ve possibly matched her happiness then and there was the Queen.
“We would be absolutely grateful for any efforts on your part, Lady Potter,” Rhaenyra spoke, sharing a hesitant look with Alicent as she did. Though Alicent seemed hesitant at first, the moment Viserys reached for her hand, she seemed to be a lot more resolved. “In that case, perhaps we should move this conversation to the King’s private chambers.”
Before the others could move, however, a disgruntled and clearly displeased snarl filled the air.
Right. He had nearly forgotten about Balerion.
Before she knew it, Harleigh found herself stuck behind the imposing wing of Balerion alongside Aerea, who was now squealing as the dragon swept them into his large, and uncharacteristically gentle, hold.
“I know you don’t want to be parted, but Balerion, this is Aerea’s family. Her home!” Harleigh tried to appease, spitting out hisses in what she hoped would be comforting. “Would you be so cruel as to refuse her the chance to see what has become of them?”
Even Aerea paused from her giggling, now tugging on Balerion’s wing so that she might move the great beast out of the way. But being able to feel his rider’s physical presence only aggravated the dragon’s instincts even more. “I have been separated one too many times from my Master! And if you leave, so does she!” Balerion growled.
Before Harleigh could try reassuring the dragon, she could hear a distant shout from behind Balerion’s wing. Daemon’s voice, she vaguely recognized. “Is this about you leaving him again?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Balerion does not appreciate the idea of being parted, apparently,” Harleigh called back, rubbing at the deepening furrow between her brow. “If I promise to come back tonight with Aerea, will that make you feel better?”
“Not enough.” Balerion snorted out a puff of smoke, regarding Harleigh now with a careful eye. “ You may treat the sick one if you wish, but tonight, you will stay with me. And every night thereafter. I will not be able to rest unless I know that my Master is safe.”
Harleigh sighed, finding no energy or reason to argue at the worry in Balerion’s tone. “Balerion says he’ll let me go, but only if I come back every night. He won’t let me sleep anywhere else.”
“So you will sleep out here then?” Alicent gasped, clearly appalled at the idea. Which had its merits, Harleigh supposed, considering that even outside the gates, she could still smell the city’s horrible stench.
“I refuse to stay anywhere near this foul-smelling place. Besides, I don’t want those brats sniffing around you,” Balerion hissed. It was then Harleigh remembered that while Vhagar was no longer there, Caraxes was still a good distance away. Though perhaps not far enough for Balerion’s liking. “I’ll have to find us a safe place to stay.”
“And here I thought you only liked me because I was a speaker.”
“Don’t get cocky,” Balerion grumbled back, finally receding and allowing her to pass through. “I expect you to be back by these gates by sundown, speaker. Both you and my master.”
As soon as Harleigh came into view of the strange dragon-riding family once more, she began sharing Balerion’s stipulations, albeit without the ghostly details or rude remarks. “Balerion said he’d let me go with you, but only if I’d be back here by sundown. He doesn’t really like the idea of being far from me for too long. Possessive grandpa,” she joked.
Balerion, however, had clearly heard her. For when he moved to take to the skies, he was careful to aim each flap of his wings at Harleigh’s general direction, causing her to stumble onto the floor.
“I deserved that,” Harleigh admitted to herself as she watched Balerion fly away from under his shadow. As endearing as it was to have Balerion worry over both her and Aerea, surely such paranoia was unwarranted. For one, Aerea was a ghost and hardly needed any protection. And it wasn’t like Harleigh was defenseless on her own.
Besides, if they truly were Aerea’s blood relatives and the last remnants of her family…well, how bad could they honestly be?
“You never told me she was a speaker,” Viserys spoke, tone somewhat accusing. Upon returning to the castle, he and Daemon had settled in the King’s private chambers while their respective wives had both decided to bombard the magic user with a wardrobe change, leaving the two brothers to confer their thoughts over Viserys’ model of Old Valyria.
Viserys, despite his ailing body, is sharp enough to catch Daemon’s slip. Not that Daemon intended to keep such information from him, for Daemon will always defer to his older sibling if need be, but that didn’t mean he trusted the people Viserys surrounded himself with.
“I thought it was better to discuss it in private. Away from prying ears and eager eyes. Magic is one thing. But this ability…this is a family matter, is it not?”
As manipulative as it might seem to say such things to soften his brother, there was some truth in Daemon’s words. There was no way that an ability to communicate with dragons could exist in anyone who didn’t have some sort of relation to Old Valyria, if not House Targaryen itself.
His brother, thankfully, seemed to begrudgingly agree. “I used to think that speakers were just things of legend. Even before the Doom, that ability was so rare that those born with it were considered blessed . The fact that she exists, that Balerion still lives , is nothing short of a miracle.”
Daemon noted how his brother’s tone turned almost reverent, but didn’t comment on it. While he was not as familiar with the stories as his wife and brother were, he always knew that the Crown wouldn’t let just some mysterious woman keep the largest dragon in existence to herself. And now that everyone knew of her abilities, there was no chance House Targaryen would ever let her go now.
“You already plan to present her at court then, I presume?” Daemon asked, though it sounded more like a statement.
“She is family,” Viserys nodded sagely, lifting one of the dragon figures that once sat at the foot of the model’s largest tower with a strange look on his face. “She deserves all that House Targaryen can provide her. Whether that is safety, refuge, or a place to call home. It would be cruel for us to deny her such.”
“Have you consulted the Small Council on this matter?” The question came out almost bitter as Daemon recalled all those times that they voted him down. It would not do to have them sink their nails into Lady Harleigh when she was still fresh and new at court.
At that Viserys snorted. “This is a matter of House Targaryen, not the crown. They have no say in my decision in regards to matters like this. Besides, I intend to have our entire family here for Lady Harleigh’s debut in court. It would be a good show of strength and unity.” One that our family sorely needs , goes unsaid.
“She doesn’t know of her heritage,” Daemon warned, recalling his last conversation with the young girl. “There would be no way for us to trace which Targaryen line she belongs to. If we are to present her at court, how would we justify her bloodline?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Viserys hummed, fingers now moving the dragon figure to sit on the highest peak of his model. “The last rider Balerion ever had was Princess Aerea Targaryen.”
“So Lady Harleigh must be a descendant of hers. One who was lucky enough to receive the gifts of Old Valyria upon her birth,” Daemon said, tone somewhat incredulous but impressed by his brother’s idea. While there was little evidence to back such a case, the idea had its merits. It would not be entirely disputable and would only give even more credence to Harleigh’s existence.
Most importantly, this would give Harleigh the relation she needed to be added into the Targaryen fold, but without being a direct threat to his brother and wife. The descendant of a long lost princess held little claim to the throne.
Not that he expected his brother to consider such a thing. It was more of an unexpected boon than anything intentional.
“She is family, Daemon,” Viserys repeated, voice suddenly sharp. He was no longer staring blankly at his model and was instead glaring at him with startling clear eyes. Even with the sores, pus, and the bitter smell of medicine, the sudden strength in his brother made Daemon pause. “And members of our family are not meant to be used as pawns in your games. In the end, the only thing that can tear down House Targaryen is itself. You, of all people, should understand that.”
After all he had done to protect his wife, his brother’s most precious daughter, when the King himself did nothing as the Greens forced her into unofficial exile—the irony of his brother’s words made Daemon nearly scoff.
‘I already do. But do you?’
There used to be a time when Alicent feared dragons. And how could she not? Growing up, the Maester’s would always warn her and the other Hightower children of how dangerous these creatures were. They were fire and fury given form. A scientific impossibility. A crime against the balance of nature that should not exist.
But they did. And nothing the Citadel said could logically explain their existence or House Targaryen’s ability to control them.
Thankfully, it was not Alicent’s job to make sense of magic, dragons, and madness. But if magic is what would save her husband from his illness and her children from an impending war, then she would give the witch a chance—gods, Citadel, and the Septons be damned.
“You would look fine in this one, don’t you think? It brings out your eyes,” Alicent offered, bringing out an old gown of hers that she used to wear earlier in her marriage to Viserys. Back then, she wasn’t much older than Harleigh, from what she could tell, so the bright green silks and lovely corset would fit her perfectly.
It also helped that Alicent found the color to be quite…fitting on her. Green would truly suit her best, would it not?
Harleigh, who was sitting in front of a large silver mirror, smiled, though her eyes never left the dress in Alicent’s hands. There was a look on her face that Alicent couldn’t place, one that almost seemed wary. Before she could think on it further, however, Harleigh was already shaking her head with a sheepish smile.
“I appreciate your kindness, your Majesty. But I do not think you should be wasting your fine gowns on me,” Harleigh replied, wincing as two of Alicent’s own handmaidens futilely tried to braid the girl’s curly locks into submission. “Besides, isn’t this a bit too much? I know Balerion has a history with House Targaryen, but I’m just a guest at best. I’ll be fine wearing what I have now.”
Alicent shook her head at the thought. Harleigh’s presentation at court was meant to be happening in a few hours, seeing as Viserys had already called nearly every Great House representative following the news of an unknown dragonrider. Fortunately, that rider happened to be Harleigh. So rather than hosting a War Council to deal with the threat, Viserys had upended the entire castle to host a presentation feast for the long-lost Targaryen instead.
Though it seemed like the Targaryen girl in question didn’t seem all too aware of that.
“Nonsense. I haven’t worn these dresses in years and I’d rather they go to good use with you,” Alicent tried to say. “These will suit you just fine.”
“Oh? But would black not suit her better still?”
All heads turned towards the opened chamber doors, revealing a smiling Rhaenyra holding a gown so dark that it looked like a shadow in her arms. Alicent felt her smile dip as she realized that it was the same dark gown the Princess once wore against the green one in her arms.
Now, as they stood in front of each other, holding their respective colors close, the entire room was left at a standstill. Even her handmaidens immediately paused from their work and scampered out of the room, knowing better than to get caught in the crossfire.
“Princess Rhaenyra,“ Harleigh tried to greet her, stumbling into a clumsy bow.
“Good daughter,” Alicent said, eyes turning away from Harleigh and her falter. There would be time to teach her proper manners later. Preferably after Rhaenyra had been dealt with. “I didn’t know you would be coming to help us with Lady Harleigh. My lord husband mentioned that you would be busy with your…children.”
After years of cold shoulders and painfully silent dinners, the jab was automatic and not something Alicent had completely meant. Still, it was clearly felt by the older Princess who’s smile turned sharp.
“I’ve always trusted my older sons to care for the younger ones. House Targaryen always protects its own,” Rhaenyra said off-handedly, though her pointed look didn’t escape Alicent. Or Harleigh, it seemed. “Which is why it’s good I came when I did. Don’t you think this would be better suited for you, Lady Harleigh?”
Despite her awareness of the brewing tension, Harleigh didn’t seem quite sure of how to treat the Princess’ double-edged words. “Uhhhh…thank you?”
‘Oh, child. This isn’t about you. Not really,’ Alicent thought with pity, but she didn’t dare voice it.
Instead, Alicent got up, green gown in hand, and with a hidden barb ready on her tongue. “And leave her in such dreary colors? This is a happy event, not a funeral.”
“Black has always been a color of House Targaryen—one that I still wear proudly,” Rhaenyra retorted, her own black skirts swishing against the stone floors as she took an angry step forward. They were mere arms away now, bright blue eyes glaring into deep brown, with a pair of confused green watching from the side.
“Black and red,” Alicent said through gritted teeth, fingers digging into her dress unintentionally. “Despite what you might think, House Targaryen is more than just one shade, good daughter.”
That only seemed to anger Rhaenyra even more. “And green is one of them?”
At this point, she and Rhaenyra were inches apart now. It took everything in Alicent to not lash out. “Perhaps instead of forcing the House’s desires upon her, maybe we should let Lady Harleigh decide for herself. Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Harleigh?”
“Lady Harleigh?” No reply. It was at that moment Alicent finally tore away from Rhaenyra.
Alicent paled as she saw the anger suddenly melt off Rhaenyra’s face. She, who should have been in view of Harleigh the entire time, only looked around in confusion. “Where did she go?”