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alicent loved anemones.
they were her favorite flowers, in part because they had been everywhere in her mother’s garden. oldtown had been full of them, and she never stopped loving them. they reminded her of home.
rhaenyra herself had no love for them. the anemones alicent favored in particular, the broad-leaved anemones, were too common for her. she favoured orchids and roses and rare, flamboyant flowers.
but alicent loved anemones, and so rhaenyra had asked the gardeners to plant some in the kingswood so they would be surrounded by them on their walks, so they could sit besides them and alicent could enjoy this small reminder of her home.
rhaenyra had been furious at alicent when she first married her father.
she had felt betrayed. she had felt abandonned. by her father, of course, but much more importantly, by her best friend.
she had ran to confront her and they had a terrible rows amongst the anemones. rhaenyra had stomped on them in disgust as she was leaving, alicent crying for her.
rhaenyra had sword to herself that she would never forgive or even talk to alicent ever again.
that hadn’t lasted.
alicent had gotten pregnant almost immediately after her wedding, and it had not gone well.
she had lost all of her weight, being not much more than skin and bone. rhaenyra couldn’t stay angry at her after that - seeing her friend go through the same thing her mother did, wasting away to give her father the son he always dreamed of.
alicent had had a laborious birth, long and arduous, and baby aegon had been small and frail at first. she had to be on bedrest for almost a month afterwards.
it was during that time that rhaenyra had reconnected with her. she had visited, once, when alicent was asleep, and she had wept when seeing her best friend laying on her bed, small and frail and nothing like the vivacious girl rhaenyra had grown up with.
she had visited again, and again, and again, holding alicent’s hand, bringing her anemones, reading her stories, even trying to sing to her despite her lack of talent.
and she had taken care of her brother, because her father, despite killing her mother and almost killing her best friend for a son, didn’t care about said son.
a few months later, while alicent was still on the difficult road to recovery from such a hard birth, she had gotten pregnant again. they had spent all of their time together, the queen and the princess and little baby aegon. he was a sweet baby, and it was heartbreaking to watch alicent try to keep up with him when she was so tired.
that pregnancy had been even harder on her. she had to keep the bed for the last two months, and for three months afterwards. baby healena was born in blood and pain, and rhaenyra had to step up to take care of her too, because alicent literally couldn’t, too tired, too weak, too ill. it became a common sight to see the princess, her sister in her arms, her brother toddling behind her, babbling at her happily.
it broke alicent’s heart, rhaenyra knew, to watch her children in rhaenyra’s arms and to know she couldn’t take care of them herself.
it broke rhaenyra’s too, to do what her friend should be doing, to be the one aegon ran to, the one helaena cried for. and yet she could do nothing but what she was already doing, because aegon and helaena needed a good parental figure in their lives and her father wouldn’t do it, alicent couldn’t physically do it even with all that she tried.
rhaenyra had prayed for it to be over after that, but her father had wanted a second son. neither rhaenyra nor alicent could fathom why - he didn’t take care of aegon and barely even aknowledged healena. if rhaenyra hadn’t chosen and given them dragon eggs herself, they wouldn’t ever had the inheritance they deserved.
and so alicent, pale and frail from so much time inside, was pregnant again.
that pregnancy was easier on her somehow. she managed to keep up with her children for the first, sitting in the godswood amongst anemones while rhaenyra played with her children. she laughed and clapped when aegon and sunfyre defeated the mighty evil knight rhaenyra of the black flames to save the good queen alicent and the beautiful priness healena. she walked around with rhaenyra, arms in arms in the corridors of the red keep like they once used to do. she was still weak and easily tired and far too thin, but it was getting better.
then she gave birth.
it was a harrowing thing to see. alicent writhing in bed, screaming in pain. rhaenyra held her hand, wept with her.
otto hightower was here too. he hadn’t been during the births of aegon and healena, forbidden by tradition, but he had forced his way in for this birth.
aemond was born afer almost two days of labor, and alicent survived by the skin of her teeth, and rhaenyra saw otto hightower weep for the first time. she watched quietly as he cried, holding his daughter’s hand, looking not like the scheming hand but like a devastated father. she wondered how much he regretted pushing for this marriage. she wondered if it had been worth it for him.
she watched him, baby aemond in her arms, and she wondered why even otto hightower cared more about his children than her own father.
alicent never recovered from aemond. she was put on bedrest and never left it. rhaenyra wept a lot in the following months, holding her siblings close to her. she was the primary caretaker for aemond, overseeing all matters. she supervised the beginning of aegon’s education, she made sure healena’s burgeoning sensitivity was respected so her sweet sister wouldn’t be overwhelmed.
she held alicent’s hand and brought her anemones and told her of her children as her best friend wasted away.
and she wept, every night, for the life they could have had. for the life where alicent was hale and healthy and playing with her children, going with rhaenyra on dragon rides, where they were all touring the seven kingdoms far, far away from her father. for the life where her siblings had their mother fully and completely, instead of a pale shadow of the girl alicent hightower had once been.
rhaenyra stopped crying only when viserys started to visit alicent’s bedchambers again and she was pregnant once more.
when the news were announced, she and otto hightower exchanged a grim look. they both knew - everyone knew - that alient wouldn’t survive that birth. that she would die to give viserys one last child he would never care about.
and she did indeed, after such a dificult pregnancy it was a miracle she didn’t lose the baby. rhaenyra was left with the difficult task of telling her siblings that their mother wouldn’t make it, to prepare them for their mother dying.
alicent hightower passed away after giving birth to daeron targaryen, her fourth and last child, clutching rhaenyra’s hand weakly.
“promise me, rhae,” she had rasped during her last moment, on a bed of blood, surrounded by anemones. “promise me.”
and rhaenyra had wept once more, and she had promised.