«Years after the day, Alicent asked me, almost lately worried: was I scared that day? Because I should have. Because killing me was the best option for everyone. I didn't say anything, but the look I gave her did. She smiled at me with a hint of sadness—some people were made for tragedies, and Alicent, looking absolutely wrecked even at her happiest days was one of them, I was sure—and sighed, telling something about how lonely must feel some people if they are not afraid of death. I laughed. Even after all what happened, Alicent still found a way to justify me, though I never really asked for that. I decided not to tell her that it is not loneliness that erases the line between life and death for me, but the rage.»

— From Drusilla Tyrell's diary.

•

Truth to be told, Alicent is nervous. Nervous in a way she was never before—which is a blunt lie that she tells herself every day when feeling anxious, hoping it will help—and sitting in one room with all her family, waiting for something unexpectable, is not helping, clearly.

She can only glance at Aemond sneakily, hoping to understand what does it mean, but receives nothing: he is too busy with caressing hand of his wife, eyes closed, face relaxed.

Alicent sighs.

She always hoped that there would be a day, when someone will be able to humble her father down, revenging for all times he hurt her. But at the moment Aemond did that, Alicent regretted her careless wish. Because she only wanted him to be strong enough to fight back, not to become the copy of her father, instead.

Aemond's resemblance with his grandfather scared Alicent all the time. Unlike Aegon, who owns the soft, hollowed features of hers, and Helaena, whose rounded face and little eyes exactly copy of Viserys's, Aemond is a perfect picture of Otto in his young years; this sharp corners and quite cold eyes.

She knows it should mean nothing, but...

But fear is in her. Now, even more.

Yet, she trusts her son more than anything. He would never harm his family, no matter what. And therefore, her, either. Perhaps, she is worried about Drusilla, mostly.

'I don't quite understand what is going on here,' Rhaenyra breaks the silence, tiredly massaging her temples. 'What is the matter of this meeting, if you don't mind telling me?'

Though the king died yesterday, the official news yet hadn't reached the capital. They were reluctant due to unsure what to do with the coronation. So they kept it in these walls, waiting for Aemond's plan to perform. Maybe, for better.

'There is a lot of important news, princess Rhaenyra,' Otto starts, hands locked on the table. 'I trust my grandson to speak about these matters, as it was his initiative to gather all of us here.'

Aemond doesn't even stand up as he should. Instead, he gestures at Drusilla.

'If you allow, my wife is willing to speak.'

And that makes Alicent ever more worried, fingers immediately starting to pick up her skin. Surely, Aemond is not insane to drag Drusilla in their problems? She tries so hard to help her avoid it: the treasons, that goes around, crimes and fights.

'The last night King Viserys died,' she starts without useless formalities, slowly raising to her feet, voice suddenly empty.

'What?'

'Why we weren't–'

Rhaenyra and Daemon—there are only two of them, their kids not being brought to this hall, surprisingly—both absolutely lost as they hear it. It seems questions willing to spill from their mouths, but Drusilla speaks first:

'As far as you can know, it was me, who took care of him all this time. And it was also me, who witnessed his last breaths. And words. Therefore, I think it is only natural to share it with you. Are you willing to listen?'

Last words?

Drusilla hadn't mentioned that before. But then again, she was so worried and shaken up, so she probably, just forgot. It happens.

'Well, rush it,' Daemon says impatiently, but even a fool can notice grief in his eyes.

'Peace. What he said for the last time was a request for bringing peace in his family,' Drusilla folds arms behind her back, slowly tilting her head on the left side, eyes locked on Rhaenyra solely. 'As someone, who promised to do that, I think it is only natural from my side to fulfil this promise. That is why I asked Aemond to call all of you here. Where we all are willing to talk with the right amount of honesty. At least for once'

Another attempt to steal her son's glance ends up unsuccessful. Instead, he meets her father's one, no less confused than hers. Aemond ignores both of them, though he definitely notices it.

Aemond doesn't seem to be surprised by his wife's words. Alicent prays the god that it is not his that were put in mouth of poor girl.

'I don't think I understand, Lady Tyrell-Targaryen,' Rhaenyra copies her pose.

'Fine, then I make it more obvious with speaking boldly. It is no a secret that Blacks and Greens hate each other, fighting over the Iron Throne for years, even long before the King became chained to the bed.'

It is not a secret, yet these words were never spoked aloud so freely, directly. They prefer to hide behind perfect smiles and snark remarks that are easy to take for compliments.

'One are willing to put Aegon on the Iron Throne, others are willing to see you rule.'

'They are not willing to see me rule,' Rhaenyra answers. 'They simply know to who it belongs to by the right.'

'Well, my congratulation, then,' Drusilla smiles suddenly, but there is nothing sincere in it. 'Aegon is not willing to rule. Never was, actually. You would know it if you ever tried to speak with him, but since you didn't, I am the one telling you this breaking news.'

'Enough of that.' Otto tries to stop her, standing as well. 'What nonsense you are speaking about?'

Alicent always forgets that Rhaenyra and her family might be the only ones, who think that Aegon ever wished to rule. How foolish.

'I don't remember asking your opinion on that matter, Otto,' Drusilla suddenly hisses, less raging than he, yet, equally powerful. Her eyes narrow. 'Sit down.'

Hearing it makes Alicent shudder unwillingly. This Drusilla has nothing in common with the one that wrapped her arms around Otto's, asking her favourite grandfather to take a walk with her.

How...

'Hadn't you hear what my wife said?' Aemond furrows. 'Sit down.'

To her surprise, Otto really does as it was said, though she assumes that is a reaction of the astonishment rather than obedience.

'I think, Aegon is old enough to speak for himself, though,' Drusilla continues.

Alicent weakly watches as her elder son leans over the table, catching Rhaenyra's hands in his. There is something desperate in his eyes, and she remotely thinks of how much this scene reminds of something that happened between her and Rhaenyra as she asked her to stay.

It is almost hurts.

'Sister. I am literally would rather die than be the king. I know you hate me, well, that is okay, I don't really care, but... About the crown, I never cared too. Take it. Take it, it is yours. I don't want to fight. I don't care about legacy. And father or mother. Please, really, you would help me out by taking it away.'

Daemon and Rhaenyra exchange glances, both suspicious of this action. But in the end, she squeezes his hand back, absolutely awkward:

'Well, good. I... Appreciate your honesty,' as this being said Daemon slaps Aegon's hands away from Rhaenyra, and she returns her attention to Drusilla: 'Then, is that all? If the main problem is resolved...'

'Who said that it is resolved?' Drusilla huffs. Her posture grows more and more elegant, and though she always reminded of a beautiful goddess, walking around with straight back, now it looks... More intimidating. 'There are a few matters that we need to discuss.'

'And name one reason why we should discuss anything with you?' Daemon scowls.

'Because I am the Golden Princess of the Reach, prince Daemon.' She doesn't even look at him. 'Because as much as all of you have concern—hopefully, though I doubt it—about your people, I have worries about mine. And you, Targaryens, love being a bad influence on others' live.'

Alicent feels nauseous.

Is she missing something?

Is it this house that dirtied Drusilla so mercilessly? Is it her son that made her like this? Is that a feverish dream?

Why she can't recognise this girl?

'Let her speak,' Rhaenyra commands. 'It is conversation with me, don't intervene.'

Daemon is quick to shut up, and Drusilla seems strangely satisfied.

'Let's start with basics, shall we? Your father's decision to name you his heir divided the Realm in half, long ago, am I correct?' No one answers, but it doesn't quite stop her. 'And while I appreciate that it is finally a big step for women in our society, you, Rhaenyra, should understand that your father did nothing, so this statement could be approved. Taken in a better way.'

'What do you mean?'

Drusilla slowly drags her chair back, and leaves the table, instead, walking to the window. Her steps are bigger than usual, more... Controlling. Demanding, maybe?

'What I mean is... Women were always underestimated. They still are. And folks are used to it. They know only one thing: that women are good for giving birth. Nothing more. They are not knights, not warriors, not rulers. And that is continuing for so long! It is easy to guess why: because they haven't seen anything else.'

Rhaenyra seems to catch her thought faster than others.

'You mean, for making people believe otherwise, we should start with small steps.'

'Indeed. At first, putting a woman in knights, showing her talents and courage. Then, as a council member, for example. Well, they, examples I mean, are not important right now; you got my point. If your father started to do that, slowly, from the day you were named an heir, then to this day your reign would be accepted as a natural one. Correct me if I am wrong, though. I am willing to listen.'

What Drusilla says... It makes a lot of sense. Just as her father told her before: until she is a woman, her rights mean nothing. It is so obvious, yet Alicent wonders why she never realised it fully.

'Well, he didn't, and we shouldn't judge dead ones,' Drusilla simply sighs. 'But you see the reason why your coronation right now would call too many problems.'

'They will endure that.'

'...And that is when we come to my second point. Rhaenyra, what people can or will do, it is not your place to speak. You might be an heir twice, but you have no idea what is going on in the world of common people. Or in capital, in general.'

'Excuse you?' Now, Rhaenyra looks almost offended, turning on her chair to Drusilla, face to face.

Drusilla doesn't seem much rushing to change the intonation she put in her words, or take a slight blaming back. Instead, she knocks fingertips on the glass.

'Are you willing to protest? Well, then. I am going to be honest with you, I never particularly was against you on the throne. In fact, it was inspiring. And... In fact, ten years ago, you would make a mighty queen. Not now, though.' She, too, finally faces Rhaenyra. Her eyes are terribly concentrated with hints of some dangerous glint, almost a deadly one. 'Tell me: what do you know about the state capital in? About how people live here? Did you know that half a year ago, Lannisters stopped shipping goods to Targaryens? Or that five months ago, Otto Hightower pulled out an agreement between new Baratheon Lord? Or maybe, you are more interested in common folks' life? Maybe you know, that half of them hadn't seen bread in their life, hardly managing to keep up with new prices? Rhaenyra, do you know what Bastards' Pit is?'

It is Aegon that tenses hearing this, but Alicent is no less scared of her next words. Every of Drusilla's words sounds like a sentence, and Alicent doesn't want to hear the end of that.

Noticing the lack of answer, Drusilla chuckles bitterly.

'It is a pit, where kids survive. And by surviving, I mean killing each other until there is that one, who won. They don't have weapons on themselves, only their nails,' Drusilla comes closer to Rhaenyra, hands resting on her chair's back. 'And it is no a secret. Ask every person in the capital: they would know. It is not even hidden properly.'

Rhaenyra and Daemon seem slightly taken aback.

Alicent shares their feelings, but rather because of Drusilla's changed attitude. She feels a terrible wave of panic, washing again and again, until she doesn't finally realise when it comes from.

'I–'

'Don't start with I was not in capital, and it is not my fault,' she cuts Rhaenyra swiftly. 'Clearly, you had a lot of interest in sending your people here, in the capital, so they could tell you what Greens do. Somehow, I think the question about mere people was never raised.'

Drusilla sighs, and this sigh is so indulgent, as if she is speaking not with a family of the crown, but with a bunch of kids.

It reminds her so much of Otto.

'Don't worry, though. It is a rare thing for royalty to act in the best interests of people. You are no exception, and so I am not going to blame you more just because you are a woman,' Drusilla leans to Rhaenyra's side, face softening a little bit, but only for a few seconds. 'I don't blame you for anything, Princess. But I do care about people, living in the Seven Kingdoms. And I do care about peace. The burden of the crown is too heavy. It is fine to admit that.'

Rhaenyra... Flinches. For a second, they are staring at each other, as if there is conversation going on between them, without words, and then Rhaenyra closes her eyes, almost defeated.

'Jace.' She starts. 'He is my rightful kid. Next on the throne, my... My heir. They will accept him.'

'I thought about it too, at first,' Drusilla agrees, with slight regret on her face. 'When I visited Dragonstone, I watched over him exactly for this reason. But, Rhaenyra, will they truly accept him? Once again, you don't hear whispers of people like I do. And the history showed us so many times what happens with the Bastard Kings. And are you willing to sacrifice him so easily?'

As soon as the bastard word sounds out, Daemon grips the hilt of his Dark Sisters.

Drusilla is not bothered at all.

'Please, don't consider it to be a bad-mouthing, I think there is nothing shameful in being a bastard.'

'My son is no bastard,' Rhaenyra grits her teeth, fingers digging in Daemon's free hand, either calming him down or herself.

'And I asked to be honest today, at least, in these walls.' Drusilla almost smiles, though there is nothing funny, even for Alicent or Otto. 'Truly, there is nothing bad. You chose a good man to be their father. And it is clearly not your fault that the King gave you a wrong man to marry, ignoring his preferences.'

Now, Rhaenyra looks slightly alarmed.

'How would you know?'

'Apparently, Laenor... Oh, or what is his name now? Joffrey, too? He is quite talkative after a few bottles of wine. At least, Augustus thinks so.'

No one says a thing, but Alicent instantly eyes her father. They were planning to charge Rhaenyra for killing her first husband in an emergency case. But now it seems that he wasn't even dead, was he?

'But you have two kids to rule, the one history will accept without problems,' Drusilla muses, ignoring the terrified looks of others. 'Aegon, Viserys, and if I am not mistaken, Visenya is going to be here soon? I vote for her, mostly, but that is not for me to decide.'

Daemon laughs.

'Are you saying we should put toddlers on the throne?'

Drusilla gives him a very little attention.

'I am saying, we should repair the damage that was done with all your stupid games, for these kids to rule properly.'

'And who will sit on the throne these years? No one? It is not possible.' Rhaenyra shakes her head.

'I would say Helaena,' Drusilla purses her lips. 'But we figured out that women would be no a proper choice for the state country is in, right now.'

And so, all glances shifts on Aemond. He raises her brows in the silent question, as if he wasn't expecting this as well. Alicent thinks that, perhaps, he wasn't. But she finds herself quite... Normal with this.

'And then what?' Rhaenyra laughs tonelessly. 'You will name your children to be future heirs, am I right?'

Drusilla hisses as if she was slapped in the face, suddenly so mad by this assumption that it is confusing. Her expression grows so cold that even Daemon straightens uncomfortable as if she could attack them here and now.

'The funniest thing about Targaryens, that you are sure that all others houses are too scared of you. Too amazed, even. When, in truth, we hate you. If not for your dragons, you wouldn't exist to this day, believe me or not. Do you really think that all of us wants to sit on this terrible replica of the throne? Do you really think we care?'

'I—'

'Rhaenyra, allow me to be honest with you, because I have a sensation that others will not offer you this mercy' Drusilla invades in her personal space, almost breathing in her lips as she speaks. 'I hate this family. I hate it with the greatest passion. And this Iron Throne of yours no less. I would rather die in the seven pits of hell than allow my kids to come near this fucking chair.'

Aegon... Whistles. Very not in time, but Alicent finds herself not even caring for that, too charmed and terrified by her daughter-in-law.

Drusilla backs down a little bit, an anger living her precious face.

'My kids will be named like Tyrells. And they will have my surname, not their father's. I wish them to have nothing in common with this family.'

Daemon folds arms on his chest, a little bit amused.

'They still will be Targaryens. Dragon blood runs thick.'

'Blood might run thick, prince Daemon, but it is not weatherproof. Two or three marriages with different houses, and trust me, they would be never Targaryens again.'

They all sit down in the silence, Rhaenyra turning on her chair back, to the others. Alicent catches her sight for a minute, and there is something nice in a way she understands instantly that Alicent too, surprised by this. That none of them knew about plans of Drusilla.

Perhaps, it is also something that makes Rhaenyra more sure in her next words:

'Let's start again,' she addresses Drusilla. 'What is the perfect scenario you can suggest me?'

Drusilla slowly takes something from the pocket of her long coat that might be actual Aemond's—a paper folded in four—and starts:

'For a time, it is the one we are putting Aemond on the throne. People calm down, and meanwhile all of us start working on improving two things: the emptied treasury of the kingdom and changes in the usual traditions that got too old. We also make more allies, since for the last years as Targaryens became divided by conflicts, others left your side. While Aemond is on the throne, our main goal is to prepare your kids for their role as Kings. Just not to repeat the story with you or even Aegon. In the return, as to assure you that my wishes and suggestions are completely lacking evil intentions, I will make sure that: my kids would never be on the throne or even close to it; Aemond's line would be not in the concurrent. And so will be Aegon's. You would have Tyrells undying support. We will help with resources and money, you are lacking it. Otto Hightower would have no role in the Small Council. Or any of his allies. We would create a new Council this