Chapter Text
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the booming sound of the captain’s voice echoed throughout the aircraft, “We are currently making our final descent towards Oldtown, and it’s a beautiful sunset in Westeros. With clear and sunny skies projected all day across the Sunset Sea, and a high of 45 degrees for the rest of the evening. So, if you could please fasten your seatbelts and make ready for landing.”
Fantastic, Alicent thought bitterly as her concentration was broken. She had been hoping that she would be able to make it all the way through the voyage from Pentos to Oldtown in as much peace and quiet as possible so her mind might be put at ease. In truth, it was not the machine itself, nor the method of travel that she found so upsetting. Aeroplanes such as this one had existed for nearly a century, and she was no stranger to them, having travelled to every corner of the world more than once in these metal contraptions. Yet in spite of all of that, there was always a deep discomfort that washed over her whenever one of these mechanical behemoths took to the skies, though it was never fear. Alicent could scarcely remember the last time she was truly afraid, and knew there was little risk to her own safety should the machine crash.
No, when she was aboard a plane, it was the memories which Alicent could not bear. Or rather, the threat of what memories might resurface while she was in the skies, so she was forced to focus her mind; to read, to write, to apply makeup, to pester the staff for drinks, to fix her dress, to fidget, to do anything as long as she did not think. She was forever grateful when they added window shutters to planes. For if she ever caught herself looking out at the clouds, there was but one question that would consume her mind: “What would she think if she could see you flying now?” She could not allow her mind to wander there, not once, not ever. She almost hated having to take flights for that reason, and would have much preferred other means of travel, yet the speed and ease could not be denied. It was easier to cross Essos in a matter of hours than to ride with a Dothraki caravan for many weeks at a time, though that was one summer even Alicent was not likely to forget. She might have even smiled at such a memory once, though she was unlikely to smile at such things, if anything, in her endless lifetime ever again.
Likewise, it was much easier to obtain isolation when travelling first class than with any other method. If she ever had, Alicent no longer desired luxury and used her wealth only as a means of staying apart from the ever changing masses of people around her. There was a time when they clamoured around her, smiling up at her and begging for her touch. Now, they did not smile, they did not gather and they certainly did not beg, all of which suited Alicent just fine. The only thing she needed from them was sustenance, which she realised she would need soon. It had been no more than a long couple of days, and while she had certainly feasted the night before she left Asshai, she could feel the hunger begin to set in once more. If she did not find a suitable ‘donor’ soon, she feared what she might do, as it would be a long time before she could set foot in Westeros again if she lost control, and she so desperately needed to return home. It was then that she sensed eyes on her, ancient instincts she had learnt to keep under control to focus on her book during the flight sprung into life. Normally, they helped Alicent to stay alert of any potential predators around her, the few that remained… but today, they helped her identify her prey. Casting a glance upwards after adjusting her seatbelt as instructed to the opposite side of the plane, Alicent spotted him. He was not unseemly by any means, but not handsome either. Shy and unassuming, yet even from here Alicent could smell the scent of his blood, calling to her. Resisting the urge to lick her lips in anticipation, she simply smiled at him instead as she returned to her book. One simple smile, it was nothing more but Alicent knew that was all it would take.
The plane landed soon thereafter and the tedious process of shuffling outwards began. The waiting for the doors to open, the false smiles of the staff, the metal hallways decorated with images to distract from the cold nature of them as was so typical of people nowadays, it was all more than Alicent felt she was able to take. Yet, in spite of all of that, she could smell him. His sweat was trickling down his forehead, his breath stilted and his blood was pumping. He was anxious about how to confront her, and Alicent knew the bait was on the hook. Soon finding herself standing alone near the conveyor belts that shot out luggage from the unseen depths like a catapult or a cannon, Alicent caught her reflection in an overhead mirror. She had chosen a professional business dress, with an ebony blazer, knee high skirt and a white dress that did not expose her cleavage. Her hair was done up in a ponytail, but with strands of hair covering her face so men could brush them aside as they so liked to do. She had chosen to dispense with makeup. Alicent misliked the ease with which the women of this age could disguise themselves with these cosmetics, though Alicent would not deny she would have adored all the variety on offer. Alicent tried not to think of her often but right at that moment, a woman walked up to pick up a suitcase from the conveyor belt… a woman with silver hair. Alicent tried to look away, for propriety’s sake if nothing else, but she could not help herself. Quickly casting her glance towards the stranger, Alicent saw her face when she pushed her hair backwards for only a second yet that was all she needed. Immediately a wave of disappointment rushed over her as all the features were wrong, it was not her. What were you expecting? She is dead, as she has been for years. Were you expecting her to rise from the ashes? She will never come back to you. In her heart, Alicent knew it was foolish to embrace such delusions for even a second. It wasn’t even uncommon to find people with Valyrian features anymore. She had abandoned all the naiveté and ignorance of her youth many years ago. She had to be cold, she had to be ruthless, and she had to survive. This was the only mantra that mattered, the only guiding principle which had sustained her when everything else had turned to dust… So why was it that whenever Alicent saw a head of silver hair was she suddenly four and ten again with the crinkling of weirwood leaves in her ear, the smell of the castle’s kitchens in her nose and the sight of lavender eyes in her lap smiling up at her?
“What were you reading?”
“I’m… I’m sorry?” Alicent snapped out of her daydream and returned to the present as she turned her attention to the voice behind her. It was him, the one whose attention she had tried to draw in the first place.
“On the plane. You, er, were reading something the whole flight, right?” His voice was weak and timid, as was hers in truth.
“Oh, oh yes,” she laughed, “Nothing special, just the latest of the Shadowbinder’s Secret series.” Alicent had planned to feign surprise and innocence, as he seemed the type to be drawn to that but she had been caught so off guard that her surprise was now genuine. Still, she was not one to turn away an opportunity when it fell into her lap.
“Oh, I haven’t heard of it, is it any good?”
“I’ve read better,” Alicent tittered, “To tell you the truth, I only picked it up because it’s all anyone in Asshai is talking about these days. You’ll find yourself out of the loop if you don’t keep up.”
“I thought it was you!” He said while snapping his fingers in some sudden realisation. “At the Shadow’s Gate terminal, you were reading there too, right?”
“I suppose I was.”
“Sorry, sorry, I don’t mean to come off like that. It’s just… it’s rare to find someone else from Westeros that far to the east. What brought you to the Shadowlands?”
“I was travelling for work,” she replied with a small smile. Even though Alicent had become adept at lying to lull her prey into a false sense of security, it was still refreshing to find occasions on which she did not need to. On the surface, she had travelled to Asshai to check up on her investments… decades ago before she disappeared in that city, which was her goal since people were beginning to get suspicious in Westeros the last time she was there. Now she was free to return to Westeros with everyone believing she had simply come to inherit the Hightower lands and fortune with no other claimants left alive. Alicent had made sure of that long ago.
“Ah, I see,” he muttered, as even he was able to sense that it was a topic she was not willing to discuss further. “Where are my manners? I haven’t even introduced myself. I’m Boremund, but everyone calls me Bori,” he explained as he extended a hand outwards.
“Jeyne,” Alicent lied as she shook his hand eagerly but even as light as her grip was, she could still feel the blood coursing through his veins.
“Wow… I wasn’t expecting your hand to be so… so cold.”
“Oh, my apologies, I should have warned you,” she stuttered in false embarrassment, “I have one of those conditions that keeps blood from going to my hands so… cold hands!” She added a nervous giggle for good measure.
“Well, if you ever need some of mine… just let me know!” Bori proclaimed earnestly. If you only knew how soon I might take you up on that offer.
“Oh, you’re too kind,” Alicent added with a lip bite as she left enough of a pause to retain his interest. “Anyway, enough about me. What brings you to Oldtown?”
“Oh, I’m not here for long, I’m visiting family in Brightwater but I don’t set out until next week. Until then, I’m staying at the Starry Spire-”
“Really?!” Alicent interjected with surprise in her voice. “That’s where I’m staying too! What are the chances?”
“What indeed!” Bori laughed with a glint in his eyes, as Alicent could hear his blood flowing ever faster now. I have him.
“So, do you wanna…?” She began before gracelessly bumbling over her words. “No, never mind.”
“No no,” Bori insisted, “What is it?”
“Well,” Alicent began gingerly as she brushed a loose thread of hair behind her ear, “I was just going to suggest perhaps we could share a taxi to the hotel… together?”
“I’d love to, Jeyne,” he insisted with a smile that showed he believed he knew exactly how this evening was going to turn out. When their cases came past, Bori was all too eager to take ‘Jenye’s’ for her as they made their way towards the exit. As she stood outside, she tried her best to stay in the shade, for even though she was protected from the sunlight’s glare, she could still feel its burning gaze. A part of Alicent almost felt sorry for him, but he was hardly unique. Men, and women, of all creeds were just as vulnerable to their hungers as Alicent was to hers. The difference was that she had learnt how to manipulate theirs long ago, to determine how best to use them to get what she wanted, whilst they did not have the faintest clue of what her desires were. In the end, they were all the same in that way. Most were more than willing to be enslaved by a pretty face, some required more delicate persuasion but all were desperate to cling to whatever petty pleasures they could before their fires were extinguished. Most did not even realise they acted this way, but they behaved so all the same. Once, Alicent had believed firmly in the sanctity of life, and the belief that every soul was unique but after all she had seen, how could she? Generation after generation who adapted dress, language, technology and culture but at their core were the same empty vessels as their ancestors, all seeking a meaning that eluded them. All of them seeking respite from the great darkness that claimed them all save Alicent. After a time, it became more of a challenge to see them as anything other than cattle. Today or tomorrow, sooner or later, now or then, every one of them would perish and she would outlive them all. Why should it trouble her if they sustained her on that journey? She had never found a satisfactory answer in her years of searching, and had stopped trying to find one long ago.
Eventually, Alicent and Bori came to a free taxi. A light word from her was all it took for him to load their luggage into the trunk by himself, and that brief respite of time was all that Alicent needed to compel the driver to obey her every command, and her first was almost to command him to snap Bori’s neck. The lumbering fool threw her suitcase into the trunk like it was nothing. The oaf was entirely unaware of how many valuable items she had stored in there as he grinned stupidly back at her, and she was forced to keep her smile intact too. She bade the driver to take them to a secluded road where they would not be found or disturbed, regardless of where else he was instructed to take them. He did not reply but Alicent knew the thrall understood his task. Taking her seat next to Bori, he gave the driver instructions to the Starry Spire hotel and away they went… in precisely the wrong way, but as Alicent looked out the window, she realised there was no such thing as a right way in this city. She had last been here eighty years ago, and the city was different back then. Smoke pillowed out of behemoth factories, thundering trains echoed all about and masses of people flooded every street. Now, the city was even nosier as enormous steel and glass towers dotted the skyline and the roads were packed with cars. In spite of its name, the city screamed of electricity and modernity. It was all wrong. Alicent still remembered the sept that stood on this street corner and the baker on that. The streets should have been cobblestone, not cement. People should be walking on their own two feet, not travelling in metal carriages that powered themselves. Alicent had attempted to warn of the damage they would inflict but no one listened. Everything she had ever known was gone, and so was everyone. Much as she tried to remain distant from the world and its people, she could not help but lament all that Westeros once was. It was not paradise, not even close, but it had been her home. Now she could never return.
She did not dwell on such thoughts, however, for she could tell by the fact that the number of cars on the road kept decreasing over time that they were about to arrive at their destination. Bori had been mostly silent, grinning to himself in anticipation of what he thought was to come but as he noticed that they seemed to be getting further and further away from the city centre where the spire was, his complaints grew louder and louder too. In her travels, Alicent had encountered others who possessed “the gift” of Old Valyria and many of them lived on their own thralls, feeding only upon those they had compelled. In desperation, any blood would suffice… but compared with the primal, unstoppable flow of blood that comes from a prey who fears for their life, Alicent was sure there was nothing sweeter in this world. It was why she needed someone like Bori, and needed him to be afraid.
“Jeyne,” he whispered, “I don’t know where he’s leading us but I don’t like it.”
“You’re overreacting,” Alicent insisted with a quiet giggle. “I’m sure everything’s fine. It’s just a bit of a shortcut.”
“I don’t know, I don’t think we’re safe… but if anything happens, I’ll protect you no matter what.” It took every ounce of Alicent’s strength not to burst out laughing at such a suggestion. Bori was obviously very sweet, but he was not capable of defending anyone in a situation like this, much less if he was even slightly aware of what Alicent was capable of. Still, his concern was genuine and touching, in its own amusing sort of way. That would be the case even if Alicent could not sense and smell his adrenaline and know how absolutely terrified he was right now. Alicent wanted to unleash herself onto him right then and there but she had created needless accidents before, and knew how to be careful now. On and on they continued driving until the driver eventually pulled into an alleyway between two abandoned buildings on what looked like the most run down quarter of Oldtown there was, she doubted anyone had been here for weeks if not months and were unlikely to be here anytime soon. It was perfect.
“Why are we stopping? WHY HAVE WE STOPPED?!” Bori’s shy demeanour had transformed into a breathless rage. He kicked at the seat in front of him, tried to open the locked door and started to climb out of his seat. Alicent knew she would need to calm him down first.
“Bori, calm down…”
“Don’t worry, Jeyne, I’ll get us out! This sick fuck isn’t having his way with us!”
“Bori…”
“Why won’t you look at us?” He screamed as he leapt out of his seat to shake the driver who continued to sit silent and still. “WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH US?!”
“Bori!” Alicent snapped, raising her voice enough to command his attention. “Look at me.” For a second, he did not turn or even move but he continued to look away from her. This would not do. “Bori,” Alicent commanded as her voice began to echo, “Look. At. Me.” Whether out of fear or loyalty, he obeyed and when his gaze met hers, he fell completely under her control. “Sit down, bare your neck, do not move and do not make a sound.” Dutifully, as if he had a choice, Bori obeyed as he sat down and inclined his neck to her. Already Alicent could feel his blood slowing as the thraldom took hold, it had to be now. In an instant, her fangs unleashed themselves and she went for the kill. His flesh was easy to pierce, and the blood ran quick, it was beyond intoxicating, it was consuming. The more she drank of the sweet nectar of his life force, the more she desired it. She could taste more than his blood, she could taste everything about him; the salts and fats of his meals, the iron in his blood, the fear and adrenaline, the hope he had for this evening, Alicent would swear she could taste a person’s soul in their blood. She wanted it all, every last drop, and she deserved it. More than him, more than anyone else, she was entitled to it after everything she had endured. What was his life compared to hers? …And yet she could not. Uprooting her fangs from his neck for a moment, she caught her breath as she swallowed the last of the blood in her mouth as more poured out of his neck. She wanted to go on, she wanted to drain him completely. She was no stranger to leaving bodies drained and empty, she had done so countless times before to unknowable numbers of souls who would never be seen again… and yet she was also no stranger to mercy. Alicent had also taken what she needed and let many go. She sat back in her seat as she felt her fangs withdraw into the back of her mouth, her chin stained with his blood.
“I guess today is your lucky day,” Alicent said with a dark chuckle as she focused her gaze upon Bori’s once more. “Take your luggage from the trunk and walk back to the starry spire hotel on foot. If anyone asks what happened to you, your taxi was attacked but you managed to escape. You will forget you ever met me and remember nothing of what happened after you stepped off the plane.” Bori once again did as he was bid, slow and lifeless as he took his suitcase from the back and walked away from them and, within minutes, he was out of sight. Alicent was always prepared for these situations and took a handkerchief out of her blazer pocket. Her chain was drenched, but fortunately most of the blood had soaked Bori’s clothes instead and there were merely some dark dribbles on hers which could be easily explained away as a spilled drink, not that she was likely to encounter anyone else today. She did not know what came over her. Was it feelings of nostalgia for home, was it his innocence or was it because of… the date that she spared him? Alicent did not know and in truth, she did not care. She had what she needed from him, and would soon forget him along with all the rest. Onto more important things.
“Do you know how to get to the Hightower?”
“Aye, one of the first places cabbies know to get near quickly. Tourists love it, even if the gate’s been locked for years.”
“I imagine they do,” Alicent murmured. “Take me there, now. Oh, and one more thing: you will address me as “My Lady.”
“Aye, milady,” the driver called out soullessly as he began to reverse out of the alleyway and towards their next destination. It had been many, many years since Alicent cared what people called her, whether flattering or offensive but here, she made an exception. She had adopted and pursued so many identities, names and covers over the years to the point she could not recall them all, but here she could not let it go. In Westeros, she would be the Lady Alicent once more. It mattered little, all the old and great houses were gone, their names warped and transformed over the centuries as the old order had vanished. There was no power in noble blood in this land anymore but in a world where she did not belong, there was some strange comfort in that title as could not be found anywhere else. Alicent looked out the window again, this time in complete silence, as she beheld the city around her.
Every time she came back to Oldtown, it changed. At first, only in subtle ways, in the way people dressed and spoke. Then the old buildings started to come down, the septs were smashed by the Red God’s disciples, stone came to replace wood and metal came to replace stone. Only occasionally did she see some historic building she recognised: the Starry Sept which was no more than a museum now, Honeywine Market was unrecognisable to her yet was still a marketplace for more contemporary amenities, The Citadel was still guarded by statues of tall green sphinxes but even from a glance few buildings looked intact. Yet towering above them all was the most ancient of them all, and the namesake of her family, the Hightower. Eternal and unchanging, it stood resolute above the city as a beacon that never changed in a city that always did… resolute, and empty.
When she was a girl, her family brought her to see the beacon atop the tower change from yellow to green to celebrate… something, she could not quite recall, but that image never left her as the fire shone an emerald hue all night long. Now, there was no glow, there was no fire. There was no light atop the tower at all, nor in all of the rooms from top to bottom. It was entirely abandoned and empty, as it had been for generations. Even the wealth of the Hightowers was gone, it was nothing but a monument to a bygone era filled with nought but ghosts and memories. That prospect suited Alicent absolutely fine. As the moon began to rise, she felt her powers strengthen in the absence of the sun, ironically as the driver was about to arrive in front of the Hightower Bridge and they were covered in shadow. When she was a girl, Battle Isle was the seat from which her family ruled Oldtown adrift from its people as only a boat could take people to and fro the island. Then one of her uncle’s descendants built a bridge to connect the Hightower to the island. That only made it easier for the people to storm the tower and massacre her family when the time came. Then the city’s new ruling council erected great steel gates to bar anyone else from setting foot there again.
Possession of the tower itself was a matter of confusion till Alicent stepped in, claiming descent from the Hightower family. Technically, she did not lie. Her rights to the Hightower were assured but for all intents and purposes, it was a tourist attraction strangers stood at the locked gates to gawk at. Most were too afraid of the ghost stories to venture beyond that, which Alicent did everything in her power to encourage. She did not doubt wayward travellers found some hidden passage she did not know about in the decades she was not in Westeros but it made no matter, there was nothing to find. The only other concern was the city government who sometimes got it in their minds that the tower should be open to the public or demolished entirely. Alicent always came back to ensure their minds were changed, or they stumbled into unfortunate accidents so a more amenable successor would abandon those foolish notions instead. From what she had heard, this only helped to convince most people in Oldtown that the tower was cursed and all who tried to interfere with it were doomed. Alicent could not have wished for a more agreeable outcome. As she stepped out of the taxi, her driver dutifully moved to retrieve her luggage for her.
“Here you are, milady,” he said as he handed her case over to her. “Now, that fare should cost you a pretty penny-”
“Oh, I’m sure it would,” Alicent said as she caught his gaze, “But you’re going to pay for me out of your own pocket to keep up appearances.”
“I will pay for you, my lady.”
“Excellent. Now, you will return to your usual spot and forget you ever saw me, you will speak of me to no one.”
“I will speak of you to no one, my lady.”
“Good… Oh, and one more thing: I many require transportation while I am in the city. You will arrive at this spot every day at dawn and wait fifteen minutes. If I do not need you, proceed with your work as usual and forget you have ever even been this close to the Hightower. If I require your service, nothing else in your life will be more important.”
“Nothing will be more important, my lady.”
“Wonderful,” Alicent tittered, “That is all for now, you are dismissed. Farewell.”
“Farewell, my lady.” His accent had been slipping away from him the more he spoke, he sounded entirely lifeless by the end as he got back in his car and drove away. It was curious how thraldom affected some but not others, not that it mattered. Leaning down to rummage through her case, Alicent took an envelope from the front pocket, which was fortunately still sealed. Picking the key up, she turned towards the gate, many feet tall and impossible to scale, and bound with more chains than she could count held together by one, single padlock. She took the key and grabbed the lock, hoping it had not rusted with age. With a tug, she could tell the chains were as tight as the day she had left. Inserting the key, the lock thankfully opened as easily as the day she bound the chains up too as she pushed the gate open enough to allow her access, the hinges creaking with age. Slinging the chains over her shoulder and picking her case up, Alicent began to walk towards her tower. In another time, even those chains would have been a struggle to pick up, amusing as it was to remember all her knights and servants who would have been eager to share that burden for her. And yet, Alicent wondered, would she not have given all that strength away if only to see them again, if only for one minute? She tried not to think about such things as she continued to walk alone towards her destination but… it was a long bridge, filled with so many memories, and she knew what she was here for. She could not speak their names but their faces haunted her with every step she took. The people of Oldtown may have been fools for how they were turned away from this place for their fear and superstition of ghosts, but not because there did not exist. The Hightower was bustling with ghosts from top to bottom… but every one of them were for Alicent and no one else alive could see them.
As she finally made her way across the gargantuan chasm, a marvel of engineering that it was still standing to be sure, Alicent found herself passing through a great doorway. In ages past, two great oaken doors had stood there so the tower might be defended from pirates or other attackers who came from the sea but they were gone now. The courtyard itself, which had once glistened with life and laughter, the sound of the Hightower banner flapping in the wind, was instead replaced with a dead silence. In the distance, Alicent could hear the city still alive but it was not the city she remembered so fondly. She yearned for the clanging of a blacksmith’s hammer, the laughter of a tavern’s drunkards, and the smell of a Septon’s incense. She would have even settled to hear whores flaunting their trade openly on the street corner, but no matter. She had delayed long enough.
As the sound of her footsteps echoed around her, she eventually arrived at the base of the tower where a great door twice the size of Alicent stood and in spite of its age, the shape of the Hightower with a flaming brazier upon its peak could still be made out. Alicent tried to resist, but she could not help herself from tracing her fingers along the edges of the marking and smiling as she remembered when the door to this tower represented happier days. The moment did not last long. When she was young, the door could only have been sealed shut with an almighty wooden bar to keep out invaders, but one of her successors was less cautious and installed a simple, singular lock instead. Alicent wondered whether he wished he could have had a sturdier defence when the doors were no challenge to overcome. With a tug of the handle, she could tell the lock held. Retrieving the second key from her case, the lock recoiled and for the first time in decades, the door to the Hightower opened. Home sweet home, Alicent thought to herself as the sound of the door echoed through the countless empty hallways, augmented by the clanging of her chains and case by the door. She thought about placing them in one of the many, available rooms, but what would have been the point? It was not as if anyone were likely to come by and steal them, she was the only one here, and she had business to attend to.
For a moment, she almost turned to the wall to check for a light switch before laughing at the folly of her attachment to modern luxuries. Still, she needed light. Her powers allowed her to see clearer in the dark than most, but not clear enough for what she had to do. Fortunately, she was able to perceive the candlestick she had dropped on the floor the last time she was here and although it was covered in dust, but it still served its purpose. Returning to her case to retrieve the candles she had packed, her pathway was soon illuminated before her. With her case in one hand and a candle in the other, Alicent began her journey through her former home.
It was strange, Alicent considered, that while the Hightower had been in this state for over three hundred years by this point, she never once felt any easier about coming here. She wondered whether it would always be this difficult… or would she someday be able to forget? A thousand years from now, would she still be ‘alive?’ When all the old monuments were buried under shining and repulsive cities of steel and glass towering towards the stars where no natural greenery or beauty could be seen, would she finally be able to forget? Would she then be able to shed her name and become someone else… or would her shadow loom over Alicent forever? When even the names of the places she knew faded from memory and time, who would she be? Would she still wander this world as the only survivor of a forgotten age, unable to move on and unable to change? Did she even want to know the answer? Alicent could not say, but as she continued to take staircase after staircase down, down and down into the bowels and depths of the Hightower, she was not sure what else to think about.
Descending and descending, Alicent passed hallway after hallway leading to what had once been bedchambers, storerooms, gardens, galleries and armouries. Now, she supposed, they could have been anything she desired but she wanted nothing to do with them at all. After what felt like ten thousand steps, Alicent eventually passed through a gateway with the Stranger’s iconography depicted overhead and the stairways changed. No longer did they lead into immaculately sculpted, pale, white rooms but black and stony hallways, no more than a few feet long at most. In these hallways were interred the bones of her ancestors. Many years ago, a Maester – or perhaps her father? – had told her about the tombs deep beneath the Hightower, carved into the black stone Battle Isle itself.
Generation upon generation of her family had been interred there, though most had been desecrated over the ages, plundered for the finery they were buried with. Alicent noted many broken seals, scattered bones and overturned coffins yet not one untouched valuable. They were irrelevant to Alicent, however, being no more than lists upon lists of the dead whom she did not know and shared no more than a trickle of blood with, for she was not here for them. At the end of that endless staircase was yet another hallway, shorter than any the others had been… and the only one of these uncountable caverns where those Alicent truly wished to mourn were buried. This, she remembered, was always the hardest part. It was easy enough to look down this hallway, even knowing they were there… lighting candles to show their names was altogether far more difficult. Bracing herself, she took as many candles as she could and lit two beside every alcove before quickly returning to the entrance of the hallway.
“Okay…” Alicent said to herself, “…I’m ready.” One day I might walk this way and actually believe myself when I say that. If she still had a heart to beat, she was sure it would have been thumping away by now, but even though her heart was still, her mind still could not be. Yet she stepped forward nevertheless and lowered her bag to the ground. Opening it fully for the first time, its contents were exposed, filled not with clothes or other amenities as her fellow passengers would have had, but items wrapped up so tight she was sure there would be no damage to them. Taking the smallest of them, she cast a glance at the right hand side of the cavern to see the one, small nook which had been carved into the wall there. As with all of them, a chest sat at its foot. Slowly approaching the wall, Alicent knelt downwards but when she looked up, she saw the seal was coated in so much dust the words could not even be made out clearly. One clear wipe with her hand exposed the tomb’s identity, as if she needed the clarification. All the seals in the tombs above were marked with the flaming Hightower, but atop this was nought but a plain shield.
Here lies Ser Criston Cole,
Born in the Ninety Second year of Aegon’s Conquest, died in the One Hundred and Thirty Second,
Sixth Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and Hand of the King.
Loyal to his Queen until the end.
With a sad smile, Alicent caressed the edge of the stone and remembered how mangled his body had been after she recovered it. Every part of his gleaming white armour had been stripped from him, but she could still tell it was him, even if no one else could as he was cast aside like all the other bodies after the Butcher’s Ball. Yet that did not last long for when she first buried him, the flesh had already fallen from his face and not even Alicent could bear to look. She hoped he found the peace and honour in death beneath these halls that he had always lacked in life. Opening the chest at the foot of his tomb, she remembered all the keepsakes she had brought back here over the centuries, as some small way to remember him. This time, she unfurled a dagger from its wrapping and presented it to him, as if he could see. She knew it was folly, but she carried on all the same.
“Ser Criston… There was an Ulthoi smith in a market town near the border of Asshai, though his weapons were dulled, and more for the manipulation of tourists than anything. Still, in the language of the Asshai’i, the inscription of this one reads “Loyalty and Courage,” and I thought of you when I saw it. You would have never let me go there, you would have warned me of the danger and the risk every step of the way…” Alicent laughed gently, but shortly, as her smile quickly curled, “But there have been many days where I could have used your counsel and your protection. Men have not been kind to your memory, but there was never a more devoted knight than you.”
With a smile, she added the sheathed dagger to the shrine of memories she had collected for his sake over the years before standing to her feet once more. Remembering Criston was hard, but still far less painful than any of her children. Moving back to her case, she picked up a second package and began opening it up as she moved towards the three stone seals engraved into the left wall. Kneeling down once more, she wiped the dust off the slab to reveal his name, the three headed dragon above displaying his lineage. It was the first time in years that Alicent had truly shed even a single tear.
Here lies Prince Aemond of the House Targaryen,
Born in the One Hundred and Sixteenth year of Aegon’s Conquest, died in the One Hundred and Thirty Second,
Rider of Vhagar, Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm.
He was not born as what others made him.
“Oh, Aemond… my sweet boy…” Alicent whispered as she closed her eyes, as she remembered the day his body washed ashore. She had rushed across the country when she heard the rumour that the skull of the mighty Vhagar had returned from beneath the depths of the God’s Eye. She had been so desperate to find him that she had not thought how it would feel to see Dark Sister thrust into his skull, believing there were no more sights in this world that could destroy her. She was sadly mistaken.
“I saw a healer while travelling across Yi Ti who claimed he could heal any damage done to the eye. Mayhaps he was no more than a snake charmer, but what if he could? What if there have always been those who could have helped you? If I had known of them, I would have walked and sailed across the whole world to help you, sweetling. It was my fault that you were wounded, I should have tried harder, I should have…” Alicent lost her voice as her lip quivered out of control. “I suppose it doesn’t matter now,” she muttered. Instead, she opened the chest by his tomb and unfolded her wrapping to reveal a pair of sunglasses. “In this day and age, everyone owns a pair of these to shield their eyes from the sun… but when I first saw them, I thought of you. I remember when we returned from Driftmark, you were so afraid of being seen with your cut, everything you tried simply drew more attention to it. Maybe a pair of these could have covered your wound up without drawing more attention to one eye over the other? I’m sorry I failed you when you were alive, my son. I hope you rest easier now.”
With tears in her eyes, Alicent leaned forward to kiss the word ‘Aemond,’ before raising herself up again and retrieving her third parcel from her case as she almost collapsed near the second plot. To an outsider, they were indistinguishable with the same three headed dragon atop them all but to Alicent, each of them represented three very different forms of her failure, pain and grief. As she raised her hand once more to wipe the dust away, she halted for a second, unwilling to even see what was beyond. Steeling herself, Alicent closed her eyes and swiped her hand across in one fell swoop, yet it did not dull the pain that swelled up when Alicent had to look at her name.
Here lies Queen Helaena of the House Targaryen,
Born in the One Hundred and Fifteenth year of Aegon’s Conquest, died in the One Hundred and Thirty Second,
Rider of Dreamfyre, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men.
The hate of this world overshadowed the love within her.
“Helaena… oh, my sweet, sweet love… I… I…” Alicent’s words trailed off as her fingers graced the cold, stone slab in front of her. Alicent often found herself forgetting minor details as the names and faces of servants and knights slipped away from her over the centuries, yet those closest to her remained unable to leave her… all except Helaena. She could never forget Criston’s stern and protective look. She would never forget Aemond’s warm embrace. She should never forget Aegon’s laugher. Yet when it came to Helaena, there was vanishingly little she could recall. Alicent knew she loved her, with all her heart and soul. Alicent knew she was a gentle and complex soul, and although she tried, Alicent never understood her. Mayhaps that was why she could not place her, and even now could not remember her face. Or maybe she understood her better than others, and the grief of her loss could only be handled by shutting her out. Alicent did not know the answer, but she knew the important truth: she failed Helaena, as she failed all of her children. She failed to protect them, and now she paid the price. In the folly of youth, she would have said the gods had punished her but Alicent now knew that was not so. The gods were fiction, there was only the cruelty of the world and against it, Helaena never had a chance.
“I found this in a library when I was in southern Sothoryos some years ago,” Alicent explained as she gently opened the paper to reveal a picture book depicting that continent’s flora and fauna. “You told me so often so many strange and unusual facts about the most repulsive creatures. I only wish I could remember them now, my love. If you are somewhere out there… I hope you find these as illuminating for you as you did in life… and perhaps one day, you might share them with me again.” Alicent felt her tears fall around both sides of her lips as she smiled, but she knew it was a lie as she placed the book into the chest of relics she had collected for Helaena before returning once more to her bag to retrieve the final package she had prepared for this day as she knelt once more before the third, and final, gravestone. It was easier to wipe the dust away to reveal his name for Alicent, but it was never easy as she looked past the three headed dragon once more.
Here lies Aegon of the House Targaryen, Second of his Name,
Born in the One Hundred and Thirteenth year of Aegon’s Conquest, died in the One Hundred and Thirty Third,
Rider of Sunfyre, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.
His crown was his prison.
“Oh, Aegon,” Alicent sighed, “How I wish you could see what the world looks like now. Blaring lights, parties that never end, cities that never sleep… You would have loved it all. I cannot pretend to know or understand it all but just from what I see on television… Gods, television!” Alicent laughed, “Would I ever have gotten you out of bed if you had one of those? Could I have kept you away from any female company if you could see how women today dress?” Alicent continued to laugh but then, in an instant, her mood soured once more “Would… would you have been happy if you were born today? If a crown did not have to be thrust upon your head, if I had not thrust it upon you… would you still be alive, and happy, my boy?” Alicent could remember the day the Grand Maester informed her that she was with child. Her husband and father were ecstatic, while… others were less pleased. She feigned joy but did not feel it, she had not wanted to marry, had not wanted a child, everything about it made her feel sick and repulsed. Yet she could also remember the day Aegon was born, and the first time she saw him: her son, her child, her baby. Alicent often wished she could forget everything from her past, but that feeling would never leave her. The instinct, the impulse to care for him and protect him, no matter the cost. What she had not expected then was the overwhelming guilt that arose out of her failure. She failed Aegon. She was always more focused on training a King, than raising a son, and it destroyed him. She could not blame anyone else for his faults, everything that he was began with her… and yet he was still her son. Even at the end, all she saw was the same baby they had placed in her arms so long ago.
“I suppose it matters not,” Alicent muttered as she tore open the last of the wrapping to unfurl her gift for Aegon’s chest; a phone. “When I think of how things have changed since you were alive, so much seems so slow… but recently, the pace of change has been unprecedented. This model will likely be an ancient relic when I visit you next,” Alicent laughed, “But it was easy enough to obtain from one of my friends in Yi Ti. I cannot think of anyone who would have delighted in this age more than you, Aegon. I hope you would have been happier here than I.”
With one final smile, Alicent placed the powerless device into his chest and pushed it back against the wall like all the others as Alicent stood to her feet again, casting a glance back down the hallway where three of her four children lay entombed. Alicent bitterly regretted that she could never find Daeron’s body, no matter how hard and how long she scoured the endless battlefields of the Reach when the war ended. Yet more than that, she regretted that she did not know him like her other children, he was only a child when he was sent to Oldtown. Everyone said he was kind, good and gentle, but were they just telling Alicent what she wanted to hear? She did not know, and lamented that she could not build a plot for Daeron too, but she was not done yet. Criston and her children lined the halls of this hall but right at the end was the last slab, the one she was always the most afraid of visiting. She did not even need to retrieve a package for there was no chest, Alicent had never bothered purchasing one for this plot, what would have been the point? Some days she thought more of her father, some of her mother, some of Aegon, some of Aemond, some of Helaena, some of the Red Keep, some of Gwayne, some of Oldtown, all of them ebbing and flowing through her mind like the tide on the beach with every new experience… but every day Alicent thought of her. Every day, there was something that reminded Alicent of her, some sight or smell or sound that brought everything back. Though it had been so long, she was sure she could train herself to forget what Oldtown and King’s Landing looked like in that time. She could forget Criston and the knights of old. She could even forget all of her children… but until the day she perished, the image of Rhaenyra Targaryen would never, ever leave her. It was a part of her she could never escape, as sometimes she wanted to and sometimes she wished she could never let go. Falling to her knees at the end of the cavern, Alicent looked up to see that unlike the others, the layer of dust was not as thick but she did not have the strength to wipe it all away with one swipe of her hand. A second. A third. A fourth. It took a fifth until Alicent could see her name properly, and only barely through her tears.
Here lies Rhaenyra of the House Targaryen, First of her Name,
Born in the Ninety Seventh year of Aegon’s Conquest, died in the One Hundred and Thirty Second,
Rider of Syrax, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. The Realm’s Delight.
Forgive me, Rhaenyra.
“I didn’t even want to be here…” Alicent babbled through her tears, “I thought I would leave it a century at least this time, I thought I could stay away. I thought I was coping, I thought I was fine, but then I saw… Do you remember the weirwood tree, in the Godswood? They’re all gone from Westeros now, an affront to the Lord of Light, as they say. The Red Keep too, did I tell you last time? The last stones stripped away. I think there’s a casino there now. Can you imagine?” Alicent’s hearty laugh echoed in the darkness around her. “A fucking casino! On Aegon’s High Hill! It’d almost be worth it to see your face at that though… or to see your face at all. To think of what I would do just to see you one more…” Alicent stopped herself before she rambled on without end, though she was unsure why. Who do you think will be annoyed? They cannot hear you. “Anyway,” she whispered “I’ve been living in Asshai for the past few years, expanding the business and whatnot. I was on a trip to Otama, a small town in northern Ulthos, to set up a new factory there… and the trees there have red leaves. What are the chances?” Alicent laughed loudly once more, before succumbing to a deathly silence. “…I travelled halfway around the world to find somewhere that didn’t remind me of you every single day, and Asshai is still just so different. I was managing, I was handling it… Then I saw those damned trees and I was right back there again, trying to get you to remember the difference between the Boltons and the Umbers with your head in my lap and my fingers were trailing through your hair.” Alicent pressed her head against the stone, as if she were trying her hardest to be as close to Rhaenyra as she could, even though it was impossible now. “I miss you, Rhaenyra. I don’t know if there is anything after this life, I don’t know if there is some world where you still wait for me, but even the endless, empty darkness cannot be worse than this. Nothing can be worse than the endless, endless waiting. Nothing can be worse than watching everything turn to ash and dust without you. Nothing can be worse than living without you. I don’t even try to end it anymore, what would be the point? Everything I tried failed, they only led to more pain and suffering… yet nothing in all those years was as painful as losing you. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, I don’t… I don’t know how to-”
It was then that Alicent’s mourning was interrupted by the most unexpected noise – the ringing of her phone. Tears still in her eyes, Alicent was as confused as she was angry at the disruption for she did not expect to receive any kind of signal as deep in the bowels of the Hightower as she was. She looked at the screen to reveal the caller on the other end was her Personal Assistant, Hang Fen. Fen was a ruthlessly competitive young woman, fearless and determined, Alicent was sure she would manage her business ventures in Asshai well when she had to move on from that venture one day. Until then, Alicent could not have any time to herself with Fen in her employ. She attempted to answer the phone but Fen’s voice was garbled beyond comprehension. Alicent ascended the stairways until she could get a better reception.
“… You there? Hello?!” finally came Fen’s voice coming through, speaking in Ashhai’i with her distinctive YiTish accent.
“Yes, yes,” Alicent replied as she tried to cover up how recently she had been crying, “I’m here.”
“Finally! Where have you been?! I’ve been trying to reach you for hours!”
“I told you, I had to return to Westeros for some family business. Signal wouldn’t be great.”
“I hope it won’t be long, things have piled up here! There’s a delegation from Qarth arriving next week, there’s a shipment for the Summer Islanders that needs signed off for, those bastards in Si Qo are thinking about seeking ‘local alternatives,’ and I can’t find the documents for our meeting with the Leng government anywhere!”
“Did you check the filing cabinet? The drawer that always gets stuck?”
“Of course I checked the… Oh… No, I found it.”
“Where I left it as I knew you’d need it somewhere you’d remember,” Alicent replied with a smirk.
“All the same, we need you back.”
“Don’t worry about that, I should be back on the next…” Alicent’s voice trailed off as she heard something from upstairs. Others might have dismissed it as an echo in the wind, but Alicent’s senses were sharper than another’s would have been. She was certain that she was not the only person in the Hightower anymore.
“Hey, Nym? You there? Are you ok, is something wrong?”
“I’ll call you back,” Alicent muttered as she ended the call, in spite of Fen’s protests. Even for one of Alicent’s speed, the journey up the stairs was long enough that it gave her time to think. Fen was erratic and constantly preoccupied, which was to be expected. She had been a struggling small time businesswoman and chef when Alicent walked into her restaurant 20 years ago, but they had since built since one of the largest seafood chains in all of Essos together. To Fen, this business was everything. To Alicent, it was but one of many, and one she felt she would have to abandon soon. She certainly had not planned any of them, but travel lost its appeal after the first couple centuries. Building businesses kept her grounded, kept her focused, prevented her from getting distracted but all of them were short lived as a woman who does not age attracts the wrong kind of attention. Some did not last the week after she disappeared, some endured when she returned to that place decades later, it mattered little as they all served their purpose in the end. Though it was easy enough to disappear in the past, it was increasingly difficult today. Still, even the most successful enterprise did not satisfy for long, eventually the memories would resurface and Alicent would find herself on her way once more. What she wanted was something permanent, what she really wanted was…
“Have you seen the size of this place?!” a voice Alicent did not recognise echoed through the halls as she emerged past the entrance to the tombs.
“Anyone there?” A second voice called out, younger than the other.
“Dude, what you are doing?!”
“What? Don’t you wanna know if someone’s here?”
“Oh c’mon, no one’s been here for years.”
“So the gate unlocked itself, did it?”
“I don’t know… maybe the wind blew it open?”
“Right, course it did.”
“Ok genius, how do you explain it? Everyone knows the tower’s been abandoned for years.”
“It was… till now, obviously.”
After that, their conversation died down into inaudible mutterings but as Alicent turned a corner, she hid before being caught by the glare of their flashlights. They walked past here without even knowing she was there. She decided now was the time to enter the fray.
“There’s nothing here,” the older voice muttered.
“I coulda told you that.”
“No, I mean, there’s… nothing. No paintings, no furniture, no boxes… there aren’t even any cobwebs. Don’t even hear any rats.”
“Not something to complain about if you ask me.”
“I’m not compl… I’m just saying, everything that might have been here is gone. Even if someone did unlock the gate, why would they come back here now?”
“Because it was my home,” Alicent announced, much to their surprise. The two of them turned around, screaming in surprise as they realised she was there, which was when she got a good look at them. They were teenagers, little more than boys, their faces covered in creams and hair stinking of gel. The older was blonde, and taller than his blue haired counterpart, but both were thin as rakes. I could snap both their necks right now and dump their bodies over the bridge. No one would find them for months, Alicent thought to herself but she stayed her hand. There was no need for that now.
“Who… who the fuck are you?!” The younger one called out, trying to mask his fear.
“Who I am doesn’t matter,” Alicent replied, “What matters is that this is my property… and you two are trespassing.”
“Look, lady,” the older one said as he raised his voice, “We’re not stupid, no one ‘owns’ the Hightower. It’s just… there.”
“If that were so, then you had no right at all to come wandering in here, did you?”
“Well, no but-”
“But nothing,” Alicent snapped. “I am in no mood tonight so I will offer you this one choice: Walk. Away. Go home tonight, forget you ever set foot here and live out the rest of your lives as if this meeting never transpired.”
“No no no,” the older one interjected, “We’re not leaving till we know who you are and what you’re doing here.”
“I am Lady Hightower. That is all you need to know.”
“We’re not leaving till you give us a fucking name!” The younger cried out as he reached into his jacket and pulled out… a gun. His counterpart observing this looked at the gun, then at Alicent then back at the gun… before he pulled out his own.
Perfect, Alicent thought to herself. This can only end well.
“Okay,” Alicent replied with a calm smile as she started walking tentatively towards them to disarm them, “Before things get truly out of hand, why don’t we just-”
BANG.
She did not know who fired the first shot, but she felt it was only the first of several. Seven in total, she counted as she fell backwards to the ground, feigning a faint. It was hardly the first time she would have to pretend getting shot had been more fatal than it was, but it was still tedious all the same. When these new weapons started to become available, Alicent believed their fury could be what might finally end her torment but no matter how much power they could unleash, none ever left so much as a scratch on her. Not that you would have been able to tell from the frantic screaming of these two trespassers, who were quite certain that she was dead. Alicent remained still as they paced the hallway, sweat dripping from their bodies and their voices overlapping each other… right until they agreed to move her body. It was when they were on either side of her that Alicent’s reflexes sprang into action. She was always surprised by how quickly and effortlessly it took to end a life sometimes, for how fragile and fleeting every other life save hers was. Just one hand around each of their throats, and the right amount of pressure, was all it took to snap their necks and let their bodies fall to the ground like limp fish. Yet unlike Alicent, they would not be returning to life anytime soon.
It wasn’t that she enjoyed these tasks, but they needed to be done. In many ways, it was a needless waste of their lives but she could not risk them running back into the city and blabbing about her presence, it would draw too much needless attention. Besides, what would they have become if she had let them live? How much good would they have done with the fleeting lives they would surely live? Their loss was nothing to boast of, but it was nothing to mourn either. It was a necessity, nothing more. What would prove more difficult was how she was going to get their bodies out of here without anyone-
“Jake? Theo? Where are you guys? I heard gunshots! Are you alright?!” A third voice called out from the hallways, a woman’s voice this time.
Evidently my work remains unfinished, Alicent thought as she began the hunt for the final trespasser this night. This one was the least guilty of all, not even having been there when they had tried to kill her but Alicent knew she could not let her live. The same principle applied, and as soon as she discovered that her companions lay dead, she would also not hesitate to attack Alicent in turn. Or worse, to flee and tell others of what she saw here. Alicent could not allow that to happen. Thankfully, the girl’s fear made tracking her down all too easy, and Alicent soon heard her whimpering only a few feet away, close enough to touch, close enough to drain the blood from her. She tried to resist the urge, to gift the girl with the same quick death as she had bestowed on her imbecilic friends… but that was out of haste, out of necessity, as she could not risk one of them escaping. This one was alone, she was afraid, the blood was pulsing in her veins and no one would hear her no matter how hard she screamed. Such an opportunity seldom came along, and it had been so long since Alicent indulged herself so. She would fight no longer, she decided to herself with a grin, determined to savour the hunt, until she turned the corner.
Alicent knew the girl was there, she knew it would be easy enough to sneak up on her, and easier still to drain her of every drop of blood she had. She was helpless, vulnerable, terrified and alone. There was nothing that could stop her… until she saw the back of her head. Draped around the girl’s back was a mop of silver hair, glistening in the dark through the light of the girl’s phone. She has her hair… of course she does. Alicent slowly disappeared behind the wall again, closing her eyes and sheathing her fangs as the instinct left her. A part of her still wanted to devour this girl, but another part of her could not let go. What if she looks like her? The thought plagued Alicent over and over again. She knew she had to kill, she had no choice. And yet she had to see, she had to know for certain. As Alicent heard the girl’s footsteps come back towards her, she knew she would have to make a choice, but every instinct in her body was at war with the other. The impulse to feed and the desire to see each seemed more appealing with every second that passed, and every footstep that came closer and closer to Alicent. She was so close now that Alicent could hear her panicked breathing. Alicent felt her fangs present themselves, the hunger was too strong.
The instinct to kill overwhelmed her as she nearly flew around the corner and grabbed the girl by the throat. Her screams echoed through the hallways as she attempted to escape but Alicent’s grip was too strong. Alicent was about to sink her teeth into the girl’s neck but then, just by chance, she caught her eyes. No, as expected, she looked nothing like Rhaenyra. Her pupils were a common brown, her nose was too big, her lips were too plump and her cheeks too rosy. Alicent was not even sure her hair was naturally the Valyrian silver, and yet she could not bring herself to kill her. Amidst her whimpering, Alicent felt something which made her reluctant to end it. It was like a promise she could not remember making, yet could not break. Loosening her grip slightly so the girl could breathe properly, Alicent decided that she would not kill her… but neither could she let her go.
“Please,” the girl pleaded, “Please just let me-”
“Be silent,” Alicent announced as her eyes met the girl’s amidst her tears. “The bodies of your friends are upstairs. Take them, and dump them where no one will ever find them. Then go home. You will forget you stepped foot in this tower tonight, you will forget me. When asked, you have not seen them for days, and you have no idea what happened to them. Do you understand?”
“I understand,” the girl repeated, the effect of thraldom having overtaken her completely. Alicent loosened her grip entirely then, and the girl quietly walked away, showing no signs of the fear or terror which had so consumed her mere minutes before. For her part, Alicent stood alone in the darkness contemplating her choice. A part of her still whispered of following the girl and draining her, but she knew the moment had passed. She preferred her kills with their blood pulsing, but even then, she could not bring herself to harm the girl. She did not know where this strange mercy had come from, but she had experienced it nevertheless. Did Alicent feel some kinship with her, did her innocence make her an unworthy kill, could she not kill so violently in her family home or was it as simple as she could not kill anyone with any resemblance to Rhaenyra? Alicent did not know, she had killed innocents, killed those of Valyrian blood and now killed the boys upstairs. There was no reason this one, of everyone else, should have been spared… and yet she had. In truth, it had been a long day and even though she did not need it, Alicent felt a lie down would serve her well.
She made her way through the tower to a room that had a giant stone slab right in the centre of it. Was this once a bedchamber or a sept or a maester’s solar? Alicent did not know but it served her well enough for the short time she was here without needing to bring in additional furniture from outside. She walked over to it, lay down and closed her eyes, though she did not sleep. She had not slept ever since she had been turned, there was no longer any need for it. There had been a time where she felt tortured by that fact, and begged for only one chance to drift away but for one night. Then she remembered dreaming, and knew there was only one thing her dreams would torment her with from now until the end of time, and the prospect of endless waking was a far more appealing alternative. Still, she had to maintain appearances even if she was merely closing her eyes. Beyond the Five Forts of Yi Ti in the mountains of the morn was an isolated temple community who taught her the art of meditation. To them, it was a sacred practise to honour and worship their lords of wind and earth. To Alicent, it was a convenient way to pass the time without boredom. When she opened her eyes once more, she knew dawn had come even though there was not a glimmer of light in her room to be found. She left the tower and found the taxi driver sitting by the gate, as he had been instructed to be.
“Do you require my services today, my lady?” The driver said when she walked up to his window, his tone as dead and empty as all the Hightower’s rooms. Alicent thought it over for a second. She had done all she came here to do, and sitting by their graves waiting until her flight back to Asshai was hardly the most appealing prospect. There was no harm in seeing what the city had to offer in the meantime.
“Yes,” she eventually replied, “Tell me, is the Thieves’ Market still around?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Take me there then,” she commanded as she took her seat in the back of his taxi before he drove off and away from the Hightower. As a girl, Alicent had seen the Thieves’ Market from behind the walls of her father’s carriage, having been warned to never go there. It was well known as a den of the worst criminal elements the city had to offer. Yet when she returned to the city as a woman many years later, it was a law abiding and friendly street with not so much as a pickpocket in sight. She once asked why they kept the name, and the answer always involved the shrugging of shoulders and the insistence that the name had stuck for too long to be anything different. As the taxi dropped her off, she could see that it had once again changed. Thieves’ Market was like most of the Old Quarter in Oldtown, for while skyscrapers towered over them elsewhere, this was the last place in the city where buildings could be made of brick and streets made of cobblestone. There was something of a homely feeling to the place, but still Alicent did not feel at home.
The way people dressed, walked and talked was so strange to her, never mind never mind the music they listened to as it blasted from their handheld phones. Still, Alicent was comforted while walking here more than anywhere else, in a place where butchers carved their own meat, grocers sold their own vegetables, tailors sewed their own clothes, bakers baked their own bread and plaques of all sizes boasted of the historicity of practically every building she walked past. Indeed, there were several tour guides explaining the history of the city as she walked past, some more accurate in their tellings than others yet Alicent was unsure where to go. She had plentiful reserves in her accounts in Asshai, but she brought only minimal Westerosi marks in person, believing she would not be here for long. Much piqued her interest, but not enough… until she settled on quaint little bookshop near the end of the street.
The Last Quill was etched above the store’s entrance. With a small smile, Alicent approached and entered. The shop owner was arguing with his assistant near the counter so Alicent started browsing shelves on her own. She glanced over the limited number of shelves, almost expecting to find one from her youth, but she knew that was unlikely. All of them were locked away in museums or the hands of collectors, both of whom viewed them as ancient. She almost giggled at the thought of books she once owned being treated like the heirlooms of a lost civilization. Then again, perhaps they were. Was her copy of Longstrider’s Wonders really so different to people now as an artefact plucked from Old Ghis would have been to her? Nevertheless, she found none that old in this shop, but she was not unfamiliar with those she saw either. Alicent had always loved books, and reading, it was one of the few hobbies she had maintained over the centuries. There was a time when she was unable to look at most of her own, as every time she opened one, it was impossible not to feel that her lap was empty now. Yet she endured, she had to.
Making her way to the back of the shop, Alicent was almost lost amidst a small maze of bookshelves glancing across the subject titles overhead; Cooking, Politics, Business, Self-Help, History. There was a curious fascination that Alicent had with these books, amused at watching children attempt to capture the essence of time periods they did not live in. She picked up a book entitled Out Of the Sea: A history of the Dothraki Khals and the Free Cities. She flicked through the pages to get a grasp for what the book was like but as she glanced upwards, her attention was drawn away from the book. As she looked through the space between the top of the books and the wooden shelf, Alicent could see a most familiar sight: a woman with flowing silver hair. She bit her tongue to stop laughing at herself. How many times would she be ensnared by the simplest of sights? What was Alicent expecting to see? She was gone. Alicent had accepted this long ago, and did herself no favours by allowing herself to be fooled so easily. It is because I am in Westeros, she told herself, there are few Valyrians in Asshai, and it will be easier to forget when I am back. So as Alicent turned back to her book, the stranger turned her head around and Rhaenyra smiled at Alicent behind the bookcase as she walked away. Alicent turned back to her book, a fascinating chapter which talked about how Qohor and the Dothraki managed to-
No. The look had been so short it had taken her a second to process what had just happened, but she was seeing things, surely? No, no, no, no, no. If she had a heart to beat, Alicent was sure it would have been racing in her chest, she scarcely even noticed that she dropped the book as she raced back down the store. I must be going insane, she told herself. It was nothing, I’m seeing things, I was seeing what I want to see, it was nothing more than a trick of the light, my imagination’s cruellest joke yet. It can’t be, it can’t really be, it can’t possibly be… her, can it? From the corner of the bookshelf, Alicent spotted her standing in line near the till, but her hair disguised her face. A part of Alicent wanted to run straight up to her and turn her around directly, she almost didn’t care but even so, the risk of being wrong was too great. Yet once she bought her book, she would be gone. Alicent had to think quickly. Casting her eyes around, she spotted a mirror which gave a view of the other half of the store. Quickly moving over to it and pretending to be viewing the books beneath it, Alicent looked up at it. The girl’s hair was in the way. Once she moves it aside, I will see how foolish I was. I am overreacting, I am perhaps finally losing my mind… but I have to know. Please, Rhaenyra, if it is you… just let me see. As if she could hear her, the girl pushed her hair back behind her ear and Alicent got a full view of her face in the mirror. There was no longer any doubt, any suspicion, any lingering questions in Alicent’s mind: It. Was. Her.
Alicent blinked and blinked and wiped her eyes and blinked again. This was not a girl who resembled Rhaenyra, who bore similar features, who happened to resemble her after a fashion, this was her. This was the face Alicent could never forget back from the dead. This was the face Alicent had fallen in love with. No more than twenty, this girl looked exactly the same as Rhaenyra did in her youth… but why? Was she haunting her? Were the gods real after all, and tormenting her? And, most importantly, was this the Rhaenyra or simply a woman who could pass for her twin? The girl had swiped her card at the register by now, her book was handed back to her as she turned to walk out of the store. Unable to control herself, Alicent looked back at her and she was certain this time that they made eye contact. Time seemed to slow down around her as Rhaenyra offered her another small smile, but nothing more as she looked away and walked out the door. If this was Rhaenyra of the House Targaryen, she did not remember it. Alicent wanted to run after her, to wrap her arms around her and never let her go again but she found herself fixed in place. She was used to so many eyes looking at her as a stranger, but when Rhaenyra – her Rhaenyra – looked at her as if she had never seen her before, Alicent felt as if a dagger had been thrust through her heart which had fixed her in place. A thousand questions and a thousand possibilities rushed through her mind as she found herself unable to contemplate them all.
“Are you gonna get that?” A voice cut in, rather rudely breaking Alicent’s concentration. Alicent looked at him when she realised her phone was ringing and everyone in the bookstore was looking at her. Stuttering and mumbling apologies, Alicent rushed out of the store and answered the call.
“Hey,” Fen began in Asshai’i, “Sorry to bother again but do you remember where you put our license to enter the Jade Port? Yin’s coming down with another set of crackdowns and regulations, and I don’t want us to-”
“I’m not coming back,” Alicent replied, almost murmuring her answer. In truth, she was barely paying attention to Fen, shooting glances up and down Thieves’ Market in a desperate bid to find ‘Rhaenyra’ again.
“…What?” Fen said, the sound of her teeth gritting clearly audible from ten thousand miles away.
“I’m… not coming back to Asshai. I’m staying in Westeros.”
“But-but-but, you can’t! What about the company?!”
“It’s yours.”
“…It’s what?”
“Yours, if you want it. I’ll sign whatever paperwork you want, or tell people I died in a plane crash, doesn’t matter to me, because I’m staying here.”
“Um… I… I don’t know what to say. Thanks, Nym… No, no, this is crazy! You helped me build this, it’s our life’s work.”
“Your life, Fen. You deserve it.”
“…What about you?”
“I’ve been looking for a purpose to my life for so long, but work doesn’t do for me what it does for you. I need something more. I think I just found it.” Alicent continued debating with Fen after that, negotiating and working out the details but it no longer mattered to her. Her mind was focused solely upon one singular goal – find Rhaenyra again. Or whoever the girl with her face is. Whether it was a trick or a trap or an illusion or some long dead lingering magic that hadn’t yet been snuffed out, Alicent was determined to get to the bottom of it. Perhaps it was a mistake, perhaps she should have stayed in Asshai and never have come home again, but it was too late to think about that now. She knew the risks, better than most… but she had no choice. Alicent had to know her. In a world where everything around Alicent had changed beyond recognition, this was the only task she understood as having any value to her. Whatever it took, whatever the cost, she would find out who this girl was and why she so resembled the woman who she had loved and lost.