A Youthful Dalliance With Alicent Hightower

It was a fine afternoon in King's Landing. The grand old Weirwood in the Red Keep's Godswood shivered and swayed, free and easy, in the warm Spring weather as the city sang and hollered to itself in a thousand mingling voices. The Seven Kingdoms were in the grip of a long, gentle peace. It was a time of low adventure and high leisure, a time for foolish mistakes and adolescent mischief; it was also the time of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and her most favourite of companions, Alicent Hightower. The bloom of youth had them both, in those days, the two girls were as pretty and winsome as any maiden ever was. Alicent was shy and humble in and of herself, if she understood herself to be beautiful she would never have dared admit it. Admitting it would be impious, and Alicent strove always to appear pious at all times and without exception.
Rhaenyra Targaryen, however, courted exception in an altogether different fashion. A generation prior, the royal family had established one golden, most essential truth about themselves and proclaimed it throughout the Kingdoms for all to know; Targaryens were the exception, by their very divine nature, and so the marrying of blood to blood, and so the flouting of the Faith... and so young Rhaenyra, bold as brass and twice as lucky.

That day, the two girls had been idling away the hours in one another's company as they often did, reading to each other from books, reciting snatches of poetry (this was more Alicent's domain, Rhaenyra had never cared much for poetry) and occasionally calling for their favourite court minstrel to serenade them with whichever song struck their respective fancies. The height of the afternoon found Rhaenyra laying in Alicent's lap, the Hightower girl's skirts all bunched up and folded together for the Targaryen princess to use as a pillow, with Alicent's legs stretched out on the rushes as she sat reading to her. The Tale of Florian & Jonquil, it was, and this was the third time today Rhaenyra had bade her read it. "I'm beginning to tire of this," she said, turning the last page and closing the volume up. "You might ask for a different story, it's awfully tedious going over the same old ones."
"The old ones are the best," Rhaenyra replied, gazing up at her. "Every time you read them, you notice something different." Alicent was pretty in the way all women were pretty; her hair was chestnut brown, styled partially upwards at the sides and back to then fall in a wave of fragrant tresses down her back, her nose was a button, wonderfully compact and ever-so-slightly upturned in the usual regal bearing of House Hightower, her mouth was full and often pursed, be it in concentration or disapproval, for she had always been one for whom worries were taken on easily and left behind with difficulty. It had always seemed like it would be most pleasant to kiss that mouth... for her eventual Lord Husband, that was, whoever he may be. As for her eyes, they were bright and wide, filled with an inner kindness that flowed freely into her gaze and onto what or whomever it saw fit to land. She liked being looked at by those eyes, and liked looking into them in return.
Alicent frowned. "Perhaps you notice something different, I on the other hand find that I'm no more surprised by the fate of Florian The Fool the fifth time than I was the second." She looked around, scanning the bookshelves behind her. "How about... Hywinn The Teller's Most Daring Tale Of Serwyn of the Mirror Shield?"
"Serwyn of the Mirror Shield is boring," Rhaenyra complained. "Just some idiot Knight who supposedly took it upon himself to kill a Dragon."
"I always thought it sounded rather..." Alicent sighed pleasantly, "romantic. To face such fearsome might all alone, and as a Kingsguard to boot..."
"He wasn't a Kingsguard," Rhaenyra snapped. "That was before the Kingsguard, before the Conqueror, even, if any part of it was even true."
"Still..."
"Kingsguard are all louts and half-wits anyway, he'd be more likely to mistake his own reflection for a foe than use it to trick another." Rhaenyra scowled.
"I'll do you the courtesy of pretending I didn't hear that." Alicent smirked as she turned the book over in her hand, looking at her without looking from the corner of her eye. "Ser Westerling would no doubt have a thing or two to say if he caught wind of it. But fine; if not Serwyn, what other stories would you suggest?"
"I'm too tired for suggestions," Rhaenyra groaned.
Alicent tutted. "Come now, it's scarcely the Hour of the Lark!"
"You decide!"
"Oh, for goodness... Fine, if you're going to be lazy, how about some..." a smile crept onto her face. "Courtly gossip?"
Rhaenyra propped herself up onto her elbows, her curiosity piqued. "Hmm, it's not my favourite pastime, but if you've something interesting to share...?"
"I hear many things, from many sources... Elinda Massey among them."
A snort escaped Rhaenyra. "Elinda Massey is a witless whore with fat ankles."
"You needn't be unkind, Rhaenyra," Alicent chided. "Besides, Elinda's always seemed so slight to my eyes..."
"Fine. Elinda Massey it is. Just make sure to summarise it for me, even you can see how dreadfully she drags out her stories, surely?"
At that, Alicent grinned. She regarded her silently, a kind of mute appraisail that Rhaenyra couldn't help but feel reaching down into her very bones, past skin and flesh and muscle, down to the deepest, darkest recesses of her heart. Suddenly, Alicent seemed almost to deflate, all the spirit draining right out of her as something vast and nameless dawned on her. Rhaenyra saw the change sweeping over her like a wave rippling across the Blackwater Bay. "What's wrong?"she asked.
Alicent shook her head, and looked down, sniffing pointedly. "No, nothing... it's... I forget, sometimes, that's all." She looked back up, already trying her hand at putting on a brave face. Curiosity nagged at Rhaenyra; she pressed further. "Forget what?" She waited a beat, blinking dumbfoundedly. "What?"
Another sniff. "Just that... it won't always be us, here, like this. Things change, don't they? Day by day, moment by moment. Today, we're here, and we've nothing to worry about, not a care in the world... but there'll be a day where we do, where the world wants more of us, and... and..."
Rhaenyra's gaze was compassionate, awash with the effortless understanding that came with a long friendship. "It scares you?"
Alicent nodded. "A silly notion, I know... and... a strange thing, to worry about worrying; I... have always troubled myself so, I think, or at least there is no time that I can remember where I didn't. I... I wonder if it can even be helped...?"
Rhaenyra pushed herself up into a sitting position, Alicent's silken skirts shifting beneath her as she moved. "You'll always have me, and...well, I hope I can say the same about you." A snowy white pigeon fluttered toward one of the windows from outside, alighting on the stone sill and strutting confidently up and down. Rhaenyra glanced at it, before returning to Alicent. "It may be that the world wants more of us, as time goes by, but that's fine enough, because we'll never want for more than each other, will we?"
Alicent stared at her for a long time, the whole time her expression remained terribly, terribly nervous, then she shook her head. "No, I... suppose not."
Rhaenyra was glad to hear it, and in a swell of emotion she went to draw her into a hug, but Alicent stiffened, and drew back. "What's the matter?" Rhaenyra questioned, confused.
"I... I don't know."
"Is there anything wrong with a hug between friends?" she pressed. Alicent hesitated, then gave another shake of her head. Something nagging at her, Rhaenyra observed. But what? She put her arms out wider, and went to try again; this time Alicent accepted it, sighing quietly as she let herself sink into her friend's embrace. They held the hug for almost half a minute, before Rhaenyra was struck by an urge, one that, if she'd stopped and thought about it, she might have realised was a most curious one indeed. As is, without thinking, the princess reached up and began stroking the back of Alicent's head. At first it drew a sharp intake of breath from her, but she made no sign of disapproval and said nothing to that effect. In Rhaenyra's hands, the chestnut brown locks was silky smooth and soft as the silk their owner was wearing; running her fingers through it was a pleasure, as were the small, understated noises of approval Alicent was making in response.

There was a tenderness in the moment; Rhaenyra wouldn't have been sad to see it go on forever.

"It might not always be us, here, like this... but here and now, on this day, under that sky..." she nodded at the slice of deep, cloudless blue visible through the open window. "It is." She stared long into Alicent's big, brown eyes; they were easier to get lost in than the Kingswood, deeper and darker than the Trident. Pretty, so pretty there were times it made her ache just to look at them. Alicent's eyelashes fluttered. "Mm...do you think so?"
She pushed the intricately styled mane back and let her thumbs rest upon the tips of Alicent's ears, feeling them grow steadily hotter under her touch. "I know so." There was a pause and, there and then, an urge took hold of her; without thinking, she seized upon it, applying the snallest bit of pressure to the back of Alicent's head, urging it gently toward her. "Rhaenyra..." Alicent murmred, uncertainly. She had a doe's eyes, a fawn's eyes, the eyes of something delicate and skittish, yet endlessly compassionate.
"Alicent..." Rhaenyra's mouth twitched. She moved in closer to meet her in the middle, flinching slightly as she came near enough that the Hightower girl's breath played slow and heavy over her face. "Rhaenyra..." Something had Alicent scared, her shoulders were hunched, her lips quivering. Something invisible, gnawing at her, felt rather than seen or heard. Rhaenyra inched closer, closer, closer still, until...

Their lips met.

A kiss, it dawned on her, as their mouths locked into place. Not a real one, Rhaenyra thought. Not as man kisses wife, or as lover kisses lover; a play kiss. Just a play kiss. That's all. Just another kind of game, that was the important thing to remember, and remember it she did, as warmth flowed from one mouth to another, as Alicent's lips pressed, gently, sweetly, against hers. But as the seconds passed, she started to lose herself in it, let the heat, the pleasure, the simple quiet glory of it, carry her away. Her own tongue, coiled like a serpent just under the bottom row of her teeth until now, unfurled itself (quite without her realising) and slid into Alicent's half-open mouth. Immediately, the girl's cheeks went rosy, blush formenting on the surface of the skin like sunlight skipping over the Blackwater. Rhaenyra felt her own tongue brushing up on Alicent's, flesh sliding over flesh, their lips forming a perfect seal, neither of them even able to breathe for how intensely they were sucking at each other.

One minute.
Two minutes.
Another thirty seconds.

Smack, Smack, Smack, went their mouths.

Finally, at long last, Rhaenyra's eyes snapped open. Alicent had done the same, and now they were staring at each other, shock registering in each other's widening eyes. It held for long seconds, too long, so that when it came time to break it off, there was a kind of pain in the parting. There was a slight popping sound from the wetness of their lips as the girls separated. For a while they faced each other, breathing heavily. Alicent was staring at the floor, fidgeting with her hands in a bashful silence. "We... we should not do that again," she stammered.
Rhaenyra shook herself out of her daze, already preparing a retort. She had on an imperious expression; she would not be ashamed of what she'd done, of what they'd done. "Why? Was there any more harm in it than a pat on the back, or a peck on the cheek? Does it not all amount to the same, when it's between the likes of us?"
"N-no," Alicent insisted. "One is affection, the other is... the septa would call it... sinful, I think."
Rhaenyra shook her head and smiled, playing with one of Alicent's locks as she explained. The Hightower girl turned a touch crimson at the gesture, no doubt remembering the inexplicable intimacy of the moment they had just shared. "Tis all affection, is it not? Affection of one kind or another, affection to one degree or another, but affection all the same. The Septa says The Mother encourages us to love always, to love freely and protectively, and to show our love when we're among those worthy of it. Love between friends is as true as any other, no?" She cocked her head. "So there should be nothing wrong with expressing that love, should there?"
Alicent looked this way and that, thinking. "No..." she said, finally. "No, but..."
"No buts," Rhaenyra said, cutting her off. "Women must try to understand each other, as well as themselves. My... my mother always said that." She had a pensive expression, chewing her bottom lip medtitatively. "There is no bond greater than that between two women, growing together." Well, Mother had said something to that effect. Once. In passing. Perhaps. But it didn't matter; the truth of a thing did not lie in how often it was repeated, only in how well it was put together. That was something Mother had said, and more than once, to Rhaenyra's recollection. That was... nice, she thought, and then, strangely, She has a bit of my spit, and I have a bit of hers. Kissing was queer like that, a swapping of fluid as much as anything else.
Though it was over, Rhaenyra still felt the heat burning bright and clear like dragonfire within her; it felt like it had travelled down her throat and into her chest, to nestle there snug and safe next to her heart. Would it be such a terrible thing to ask for more? The Septa would disapprove, but Septas and Septons both had the most annoying tendency to disapprove of most anything fun. Bugger the Septa, she decided. There was nothing so awful in what had transpired between them, and she was certain that the same was true of the next thought that was already beginning to take shape within her mind. What a wicked one it was, if it had been an animal it would have had barbs, quills, teeth and claws, all at once. "I have an idea," she said, as the old giddiness started to bubble away in the pit of her tummy, the way it always did when she was about to do something she wasn't supposed to. Alicent appeared apprehensive on the surface, but Rhaenyra knew the truth by the subtle glint in her eye; she was intrigued, and when she was intrigued they could get up to all sorts of mischief together before the boring, pious part of her reasserted itself. Yes, it has to be now. If she waited, Alicent would shy away, dither and defer to the Septa or her Lord Father or whoever bloody else came to mind; better to strike now while the iron was hot. Granted, Rhaenyra's own father would doubtless disapprove, mother too for that matter... but the thought of it was rich with promise, exciting; she was excited by it, it sent her tummy all-a-flutter. Anything that excited her like this had to be explored, to back down now would be a betrayal of her nature, of the blood of the dragon itself. No harm, she reassured herself, her gaze falling upon the two noticeable swells in the bust of Alicent's dress. Just a bit of fun between friends...

[Author's Note: I always enjoy and appreciate feedback in terms of what's working and what isn't, so please feel free to like and/or leave comments!]