Reborn as Rhaenyra's Twin - (House of the Dragon)

'Avast thee

Avast! Thou seeker of truth.

Be careful what thou wish for!'

-'The Red Prince', performed by the Mummer's Guild.

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Alicent lied sleep and sound, naked and snoozing under royal sheets.

Rhaenar sat at the corner of the bed. Head pounding, bones creaking. Distraught.

"By the gods," Rhaenar muttered, quite loudly. 

Alicent did not respond. Happy as Larry, whoever that fucker was… 

Shit. Rhaenar was tired. Another sunrise, another sting at the retina. 

He still had not slept.

So much to do. But before that, Rhaenar was disturbed.

It all happened so quickly. The kiss, the touch, the disrobing. The heat and sweat and tenderness…

Then he heard that squeal 

"Rhaenar!"

Suddenly Rheanar came to, and he realized he had Alocent straddled, lips wet against his tip. 

So sleek. So ready. Who would want to leave? 

 For a moment he rubbed against her. Up and down, wiggling left and right, member slipping between lip folds. 

It was all there for the taking. That purity.

All he had to was lower ever slightly and Alicent would plunge on his full length.That sweltered thickness.

And then reality hit. And the fog cleared. Alicents voice got through. With some reluctance on her part.

"Rhaenar!"

"I'm sorry," he said, resolved to not penetrate, but reluctant to move away.

For a while he held her there, and they enjoyed the sweet tingle of what could be. The heat and wetness separated by not even an inch.

Then he gently put her back down and sheathed his hard iron into his pants.

"It's okay," she told him, cheeks flushed.

And she meant it. He saw the sincerity in those hazel eyes. 

She meant it. By the gods, she meant it!

Rhaenar wondered what he did to deserve such a companion. All their lives Alicent looked out for him, cared for him.

Loved him?

Even then, after nearly defiling her, Alicent could only think about him, how Rhaenar was feeling. How her heart swelt at the chance to assist.

Such a beautiful creature. 

"My lady," Rhaenar finally said, "All these years you've looked out for me. If only I were not so blind."

At that, Rhaenar resolved to return the kindness. He swept Alicent of her feet and carried her like a princess to bed.

"…Rhaenar?" she said. Low and almost a purr. 

"Do you trust me?"

She nodded. And Rhaenar went about undoing her dress, one laced string at a time until that pert porcelain body opened. Pink nipples hardened at his touch.

They found themselves kissing and touching and panting all night. Rhaenar liked how she moaned when he kissed below the ear. How Alicent's hands gained confidence as they feasted on his body.

Most of all he enjoyed how loud she was when he serviced her with his mouth.

Rhaenar liked how she tasted. How her back arched as his tongue explored her special spot. How the hairs of her brown muff were like strands of silk up his nose. How she reached down and took a great clasp of his silver locks.

Each moan of pleasure was like a release. Louder and louder.

Release from the pressure of court. From her father, her house, her lot in life. The rules that strangled.

Each flick of Rhaenar's tongue, each tender kiss, were so hot they melted those chains of expectations.

That night, Alicent was free.

After she had finished many times, and all the facial muscles of Rhaenar were spent with exhaustion, Alicent paid the favor back. 

It was an awkward service with her hands. Rhaenar desperately wanted to put that mouth to work. But it was not the time or place to move her past that threshold of innocence.

That isn't to say that Rhaenar didn't bust a massive load. Alicent looked astonished at how much came oozing out of him. Prideful, even.

Once done, Rhaenar kissed Alicent on the forehead, and together they sighed and breathed. She was asleep in his arms within minutes.

But not Rhaenar. Even after all that and the events of the past few days, all he could do was stare at the ceiling and stroke the soft head that lay on his chest.

Something gnawed at him. By the time the first glimmer of dawn seeped through the window, the prince had made up his mind.

Rhaenar untangled from their embrace. Alicent continued to snooze. 

Which brings us back to now. Rhaenar rubbed his temples and stood from the corner of his bed, clad himself in the light black steel of the urban armor set, and made for the exit.

Casting one final glance at the goddess who slept in his bed as he strapped Blackfyre to his waist.

"My prince," one of the soldiers said, "Thank the gods you're alright. We heard screams, but thought it not proper to intrude…"

"At ease," Rhaenar said, thankful for their discretion. "Send word to the men. The Red Keep is now on lockdown. No one gets in or out until I say so."

The troops did as commanded.

They knew better than to ask questions when the Prince had that venom in his eyes.

.

..

…

..

.

Around noon that day, a serving girl was led to a secluded chamber in the castle by a Rhaenari soldier.

Inside, Prince Rhaenar sat at a table.

"Thank you for coming," the Prince said, gesturing to the chair across from him. "Please, sit."

The serving girl took the seat cautiously. She was young and timid, no older than fourteen.

"Scarlett, correct?" Rhaenar asked warmly.

"Yes, m'lord," Scarlett replied, fidgeting with her hands.

"Don't worry, my lady. You've done nothing wrong. So long as you answer my questions truthfully, you will be rewarded."

Scarlett noted something unsettling about the Prince.

Though he smiled kindly, she could sense a delirium about him — a weariness from lack of sleep. Unhinged uncertainty.

"Now then," Rhaenar continued, "I'm told you were present the moment my mother passed. Is that true?"

Scarlett nodded. Anxiety creepy over her.

"Good. I want you to tell me exactly what happened that day. From the moment you woke to when you went to bed."

Scarlett hesitated. Her mind flashed to the other maids who hadn't reported for duty that morning. She'd heard rumors of their sudden disappearances, and now things started to make sense.

"I…" Scarlett stammered, noticing the dark figures lurking behind the Prince.

Rhaenar sighed.

"Where are my manners?" He gestured behind him. "This is Goon."

A grotesque, bald man with a hunched back and crooked smile stepped forward.

"We're not sure that's his real name," Rhaenar said with a smirk. "Goon doesn't speak much. But he has a keen ear for what others say. In his own way, Goon is quite the conversationalist."

As Scarlett's eyes adjusted, she noticed more figures emerging from the shadows —over a dozen men sharpening blades or handling ominous instruments.

"These are Goon's friends. Together, we call them the Goonies."

A chilling laugh echoed from the group, and Scarlett's heart skipped.

"You have two options," Rhaenar said. "Tell me what happened to my mother, or tell the Goonies. The choice is yours. I know what I'd choose…"

Scarlett's gaze fell on Goon, who licked the edge of his sickle, his dark eyes fixed on her.

"I'll… I'll tell you," she whispered.

"I thought as much," Rhaenar replied. "You heard her, lads. Leave us."

Scarlett exhaled in relief as the Goonies retreated, each figure more disturbing than the last.

"Now," Rhaenar said, settling back into his seat. "Your story. From the beginning."

The warmth in his voice returned, giving Scarlett a moment's courage. She took a deep breath.

"This is what happened…"