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Alicent knew listening at doors was not something she should be doing and that she should in fact go back to bed right now and ask absolution of her confessor at church on seventhday.
Alicent did not go back to bed.
She felt this was justified because Father disliked explaining things to her, considering it waste of time and that she only needs to do as she was bid. However Alicent had found on numerous occasions when she followed her father’s orders to the best of her abilities that she still ended up scolded and chastised for ruining his plans because had not known his ultimate intentions and thus had been unable to work towards those intentions.
To Alicent the simplest solution would be for her father to explain to her his full plan and not just the part she was to play as his clockwork doll.
Father had proven to be unreceptive to this argument.
So, as far as Alicent could see, the best she could do was to listen in doorways and otherwise sneak around – in ways that would be unacceptable to a true warrior of the faith but were surely allowable to a weak and feeble woman – in order to understand her father’s plans so that she could assist in carrying them out as he demanded.
Therefore she had pulled on her warm wrap and crept from her room, out the door – the hinges of which no longer squealed since she oiled them with butter – over the cold stone floor and down the stairs to listen at the door of his solar as he talked to her brothers Bernard and Bryndon.
Father was maneuvering to catch the attention of Prince Baelon, heir to the old King Jaehaerys. Alicent already knew that part. All of King’s Landing wanted the attention of Prince Baelon and the preferment that would follow once he ascended the throne. What she did not know was that father was conspiring against Lord Darklyn, why she had not yet discerned but at least now she knew that when her father told her to befriend Lady Rosalind Darklyn he did not mean the girl to become an ally. That was important information for how Alicent would approach Lady Rosalind and how she would frame that approach for Queen Alysanne’s other ladies-in-waiting. Alicent could not afford a reputation for being two-faced – Alicent also didn’t like being two-faced, she preferred to be straight forward if she could. Sadly, no matter how much the Faith might approve, Father would not.
And when it came down to it, Father trumped the Faith every time.
If the Seven disapproved, then they could come down and make her father listen to them, because Father was never going to listen to Alicent. That thought was undoubtedly sacrilegious and disrespectful but when Alicent was shivering and her feet were so cold they hurt with it, she felt very disrespectful. Sometimes when she looked at the statue of the Maiden she felt sure her goddess understood and Alicent would rock with the force of her prayer for help.
They were talking about her now, Father was explaining she was integral to his plan, which would have made her feel wanted and needed if she hadn’t had to crawl out of bed in the dead of night to hear it.
Then Father said – No, Alicent shook her head in disbelief, Father couldn’t have said that. Father would never say that.
Inside the solar, her brother Bryndon spoke her protests out loud,
“Father, no! You cannot mean to treat our sister in such a fashion.”
But Father explained. Father was good at explaining. He had a soft implacable voice that insisted on compliance, that explained just how compliance was better for you. She was unsurprised to hear Brydon’s outrage fade into dutiful obedience.
It still hurt though. Somehow it was worse hearing Brydon’s resistance crumbling than it was to hear Father first speak the words. And Father kept talking, explaining how Alicent would serve their cause.
She couldn’t listen anymore. It was too much. Alicent fled back towards her room, hot scalding tears welling in her eyes. She hurried around the corner, and slammed right into a solid dark shadow.
She shrieked in surprise, and there was a masculine yelp from the body she’d crashed into. Hands grabbed her, and fear sealed her scream in her throat.
“Steady, steady,” said the young man, and Alicent gasped with relief as she realized the hands were only there to keep them both on their feet. As she steadied herself, the hands released her,
“I’m sorry, my lady,” said the young man, “are you alright?”
Alicent drew herself up to her full height. The shadow was still taller than her, Alicent drew on every inch of her late mother’s training to look down her nose at him.
“That is not your concern. Leave me be or I shall speak to my father regarding your conduct and he will have you flogged.” Alicent had no intention of speaking to her father, had no wish to ever speak to him after he had said – that. But equally she could not let some serving lad spread gossip about seeing her out of bed so late at night.
He laughed, a proper delighted laugh, “Oh will he, my lady? I own I would give a good deal to see him try.” He moved a little then, and as he shifted, he stepped into the glow of the torch in the sconce on the wall. He was no longer a shadow but a man, and in the flickering light, his hair gleamed silver.
Terror slicing through her, Alicent staggered back a step. Silver hair. The only people in the Keep with silver hair were the Royal family.
“My lady?” He caught her arm with his hand, as Alicent jerked back, and it took her a moment to realize he was merely trying to steady her again. In their shuffling they had moved further into the light, and she could see now that it was Daemon Targaryen, the youngest and brightest prince, who was staring back at her.
Alicent immediately dropped into the lowest curtsey she could manage with her frozen limbs.
“My Prince, my deepest apologies. I am so, so sorry, your grace.” She had threatened to have a Prince of the Realm flogged; Alicent was dizzy with the horror of it.
“No groveling now. I much preferred it when you were going to have me flogged. Far more interesting. Nobody has ever done that before.”
Alicent nodded dumbly. The ground was shifting beneath her feet for the fourth time in as many minutes. She realized the Prince had one hand around her arm, and she was actually holding his arm in return. She should let go but she couldn’t let go of the only stability she could find.
“Although I’m not a your grace. That’s my grandfather and grandmother, my father if you’re being polite, my brother if you’re sucking up, but not me. I’m the second son, no your graces for me.”
“Uh, uh,” Alicent scrambled for words, struggling to comprehend his casual reference to the King as grandfather. Because the King was his grandfather. And Queen Alysanne was his grandmother. Alicent had met the Queen but she was a very junior lady-in-waiting, fetching and carrying for the more important ladies who actually spoke to the Queen.
And this boy, grinning at her with bright purple eyes and gleaming silver hair, was a Prince.
“Uh, your brightness –,”
He laughed out loud, “Oh I like that one. I’m keeping that one.”
Alicent cringed, flushed and miserable, she gave up and just begged for mercy, “Please don’t tell my father about this, Prince Daemon.”
“Aww, I preferred my prince. But worry not fair lady, I excel at not telling fathers things.”
“Thank you,” she breathed, desperately grateful.
“But why are you hurrying through the corridors at this time? Only people who are up to no good are about at this hour. Are you up to no good, Miss Alicent Hightower?”
“Are you?” she shot back on instinct. Alicent had three brothers after all.
“Of course I am.” He grinned engagingly at her. Then, abruptly, his expression froze as voices and footsteps echoed along the walls. Alicent recognized her father’s voice, and all her pained shock flooded back and her poor overtaxed body started to shake.
The Prince flashed a glance of intense dislike over her shoulder, then quickly towed her along the corridor. Alicent stumbled clumsily after him as he dragged her through a doorway and quickly shut it behind them. They both stood there, panting in the darkness, as the voices and footsteps of her family passed them faded into the distance.
“The door didn’t creak,” said Alicent. Which was not relevant in any way and she had no idea why her mind had fixated on it.
“I make sure they’re well-greased,” said the Prince, “it saves so many awkward conversations.”
Alicent blinked heavily. For a second she had been back before, when she had been so proud of sneaking out to help her family, before she had heard her father say – that. She was still shaking and her eyes were suddenly sticky and hot.
“My lady, are you crying?” the Prince sounded appalled. “I’m not going to –, I wouldn’t –, Your father would have me flogged, remember? And if I, I hurt you, my father would let him.”
Alicent wailed with grief, because he wouldn’t, her father wouldn’t.
“My lady?” The Prince released his grip on her arm. And Alicent couldn’t have that, she could not be all alone with her thoughts in the dark. Tightening her own hold on him, she flung herself forward, pressing herself hard against his warmth, wrapping her free arm around him to haul him close.
“My lady?” he was panicked now. “My lady, please, stop crying.”
Alicent couldn’t say anything, just helplessly sobbed into his shoulder.
“Please, please stop.” And then he slipped into the soft purring syllables of High Valyrian. Alicent didn’t recognize the words but was soothed by the crooning sound. She gasped for breath as she tried to swallow her sobs and swiped at her eyes.
The Prince was singing properly now, she hadn’t didn’t recognize the tune, and the soft mysterious Valyrian words were haunted with longing that echoed in her own chest. It gave her something to cling to. She scrubbed her face with the sleeve of her shift, and made herself concentrate,
“That’s a lovely song. What’s it about?”
“It’s a dragon song. Celebrating flying as high and fast as you can. I sing it to Caraxes when he’s miserable about shedding.”
Alicent giggled, then clapped her hand over her mouth in shock at herself.
“My lady?” He tugged his hand free of her grip and there was a rustle of cloth, then the room was filled with a dark red glow. Alicent rubbed her eyes again, and the strange light resolved into the Prince, one arm stretched out as he placed a pulsing blood red point of light on the floor with a chink of stone against stone. It must be a glass candle. Father said they were vilest sorcery, but for the first time Alicent wondered if Father would think differently if he could light a candle himself.
But she wasn’t going to think about Father now. She turned to the Prince, he’d tucked his knees in close to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. His head was tilted to one side as he watched her with eyes of deep purple from his face shadowed in the dim red light.
“You sang me the same song you use to cheer up your shedding dragon?”
“Caraxes likes it,” his voice was huffy now. Alicent recalled that she had just wept all over him and he had been far gentler than her brothers ever were.
“I liked it too,” she said hurriedly, and she had, “I was just surprised. It was nice of you.”
“’M not nice,” he grumbled.
“I didn’t even know there were dragon songs.”
“We don’t talk about it much outside of family. Andals don’t understand dragons and don’t care to try.”
Alicent wriggled her shoulders uncomfortably, guilt weighing them down like a too heavy cloak. “Thank you. It was good to hear. Do you know more?”
He shrugged, elaborately casual, “A few. Caraxes likes them.” He sounded exactly like Gwayne denying his interest in stories of Hightower during the heathen Age of Heroes. She certainly believed him as much as she’d ever believed Gwayne, so she said,
“Well I can see why. Which one is your favorite?”
“That one,” he said, “me and Caraxes have the same favorites. I even like roasted goat best of all, but don’t tell anybody that.”
Alicent giggled again at the idea of the Prince preferring a smallfolk’s roasted goat to the fancy dishes of beef and boar they served at the Red Keep.
“So what’s your second favorite?”
“It’s about helping dragons grow strong. It’s not that interesting.”
“I’m interested. I’ve always thought dragons were interesting.” Which was sort of true. Alicent had always thought dragons were terrifying. The Field of Fire was nearly a hundred years ago but it still burned in the hearts of the Reach. But none of that meant dragons weren’t interesting, fear lent an intensity to fascination. And now Alicent had the image of a silver prince, knees hugged against his chest, singing to comfort his grumpy dragon. Which was not scary in the least but fascinating all on its own.
“It’s like this,” said the Prince, and Alicent was subjected to an excited lecture dragon keeping. She didn’t entirely follow it, not helped by the fact the Prince kept slipping into High Valyrian when a concept wouldn’t translate easily into Common, but he was so enthusiastic just watching him warmed her against the cold.
The sound of footsteps sobered her abruptly. She could feel the alarm scrawling its way across her face as she stared at him. He put one finger to his lips to signal for quiet, and put his other hand over the glass candle, shutting off the light.
“It’s the guard patrol,” he whispered in the dark, “they go by every second hour. Stay quiet and we’ll be fine.”
And so it proved. The steps didn’t even slow down as they marched past.
“We should get you back to your room,” said the Prince, sounding regretful about it, “your father really will flog me if we’re caught like this.”
“No, he won’t,” she said bitterly. “He wants me to catch a Targaryen’s eye. He wants me to be a, to be dishonored. He thinks your father might be tired of a cold bed. Or maybe your brother, Princess Aemma is struggling with another pregnancy, he might be distractable.”
The Prince laughed, a crackle of sound, “Such overweening ambition is almost admirable. But my lady, he’d still flog me. I’m the unneeded spare. Nobody is foolish enough to want me, not even the wife my grandmother intends to tie me to.”
“Uh,” Alicent stumbled over the idea the Prince could be unwanted.
“And he is utterly overreaching himself. My father turned down Aunt Viserra. He’s never looked at anyone since he lost my mother and he never will. Viserys, he loves Aemma despite his incessant demands for a son. He’d not shame her with a mistress. You’ll have no luck with them, my lady.”
“I don’t want luck with them,” Alicent could feel tears of frustration gathering in her eyes. “It’s humiliating. I thought – Father was always so insistent on our following the Faith’s teachings. But he thinks it a worthwhile sacrifice. He can use my position to promote the faith and that’s worth the stain on my soul. The Father would be forgiving, after all a woman has no real honor.”
“Well he’s a piece of shit.”
Laughter choked her, “My prince, you can’t say such things.”
“Sure I can. One of the few benefits of being a prince.”
Alicent laughed again and wiped her streaming eyes, “Bernard agreed with him. And Brydon, he protested but Father said I would be able to ask for a place in the Kingsguard for him, so Bryden said –“ she broke off, unable to continue.
“Those are your brothers I take it?”
She nodded.
“They’re all pieces of shit too.”
“Gwayne isn’t. At least, he’s not here. So he didn’t. He’s younger you see.” He was still back at Hightower and she was grateful because if her favorite brother had agreed – She folded her arms tightly about herself.
“I’m sorry,” said the Prince. “If there was anything I could do to help, I would, but nobody’s going to listen to me. I’m just a second son.”
“That’s better than being a woman,” she flared.
“Not by much.”
“Your family isn’t going to, to whore you out.” She shivered violently at stating it so plain.
“No, they’re putting me out to stud.”
Alicent shivered again at the bleakness in his voice. She’d envied her brothers their freedom; she’d never considered how much they were still under her father’s command. She thought again of Gwayne, she knew he’d have come to King’s Landing if he could.
“Surely not, my prince,” she protested.
“Yes,” he said. “My only use is to provide cousins for Viserys’ children to marry so as to avoid the Faith’s ire if they married brother to sister. And that wouldn’t even be so bad but they’re sending me into exile.”
“Exile?”
“To the Vale, Runestone. Oh grandmother says I’ll be lord of a castle and have every delicacy I could want but what do I care about that when my family is sending me away.”
“I’m sure it isn’t like that.” She moved so he could nudge up against his side and try and reassure him with her presence.
“It is exactly like that. Rhaenyra is five now, strong and healthy, past the illnesses that carry away young babes. Aemma is pregnant again. They don’t need me anymore.” He pushed the heels of his hands violently against his eyes. “It’s not fair,” and beneath the growl of his voice, Alicent thought she could hear the roar of a dragon.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “you’re right, it isn’t fair.”
“The wife they’ve assigned doesn’t even want me. She’s written explaining she rules Runestone by her own right and needs not my assistance. She –,” he broke off.
“I’m sorry,” she said again. That was her own private nightmare, to be tied to resentful spouse who wanted her only for the children he could get on her. She trembled because that was her future when she failed to catch Prince Baelon or Viserys’ eye. Or would her father find some other grand lord he needed to influence that Alicent had not the rank to marry but could serve as a paramour.
“You’re shaking,” said the Prince. He took her hand in his, and flinched. “And I’m not surprised. You’re freezing. Not at all sensible Miss Alicent. Here,” he took the cloak off his own shoulders and wrapped it about her. “And you haven’t any slippers. Your feet must be frozen. Where are your slippers? You’re as mad as a dragon not wearing them.”
Alicent squeaked as she realized she was showing her bare feet and ankles to the Prince and hurriedly tucked them under her shift.
“My slippers are in my room. So if my father looks in on me, he’ll see them there and not think I’ve gone wandering.”
“I never thought of that. I see you’re a true professional at sneaking around. In future I’ll be sure to leave a pair of boots out.”
Again Alicent thought of Gwayne, “You should leave them in the middle of the room my prince. I’m sure that’s where the guards would expect to see them.”
“More than likely. Did you wish to insult me some more, or should we be on our way?”
“Is that a trick question?” Alicent bounced back before her brain caught up with her wayward tongue and she recalled this was Prince Daemon and not Gwayne. She could feel the flush crawling over her skin.
The Prince grinned. “Sharp as a dragon’s tooth. I shall have to watch myself.” His face lost its smile. “Not that I’ll be here much longer to worry about it.”
“I wish things were better for you,” Alicent squeezed his hand, “if there was anything I could do about it I would.”
He hunched in on himself. “It’s fine. We should get you back to your room. Because I’m not japing about your father flogging me. And my father isn’t happy with me. He’d probably be glad of the excuse.”
The Prince picked up the still glowing glass candle, tossed it in the air and caught it, then tucked it into his open belt pouch so it still emitted a faint light. He scrambled easily to his feet and Alicent moved to follow him, but her feet were numb and clumsy, tangling in her nightshirt. She would have fallen but the Prince steadied her. He opened the door, and gestured for her to go ahead of him. As she stumbled, he said,
“This is foolish.” And then he was scooping her up into his arms, one arm under her knees, the other around her back. Alicent squawked with surprise and pressed herself close to his chest, clutching his collar with one hand.
After a moment she remembered she should in fact be struggling to get away, not trying to hang on. But the Prince was already striding down the corridor, and Alicent couldn’t see how struggling would do anything but draw attention neither of them wanted. She was supposed to become a fallen woman after all, what was a little carrying. And it was kind of the prince to carry her, even it was because he was exasperated her feet were too cold to work properly. She pressed closer, resting her head against his shoulder and smiling when he started to sing.
She gave directions when they reached the cluster of rooms her family was using and he set her gently on her feet at her door.
“There you are, my lady.”
“Thank you,” she looked up at him and blushed under his intense gaze in the half light. Trying to break the sudden strange tension, she said, “It was very nice of you.”
“I told you; dragons are not nice.” He stared down at her for a long moment. Alicent felt a shudder work through her that had nothing to do with the cold. She bit her lower lip. Sudden and sharp, he bent his head and pressed his mouth to hers in an impulsive kiss. Alicent shivered and clutched him close to balance on her shaky legs. He drew back with a sigh, and Alicent would swear she felt the heat of his breath against her cheek. The hands on her arms tightened, and when had he taken hold of her, and then he stepped back.
“Goodnight my lady.”
Alicent had to gulp back her demand he stay. “Goodnight,” she stopped herself before she could say my prince, it was suddenly far too personal, “your brightness.”
He laughed, so bright and happy, the strange intensity vanishing under his joy.
“It was an honor to serve my most gracious lady.” He swept her an extravagant bow and without even thinking about it she extended her hand to him, as if he were her gallant knight in truth and she were indeed a lady from the stories she read as a child and not a future fallen woman fit only to scrub a Sept floor.
He dropped to one knee, took her cold hand in his rough warm one, raised it to his lips and kissed it gently.
“Sweet dreams, my lady.” He looked up at her, purple eyes gleaming, a lock of white hair fallen loose curled about his face. Alicent reached out with her free hand, catching the strand of hair and gently tucking it behind his ear.
“Sweet dreams, my prince.” She blinked rapidly, the tears he had chased away before stinging her eyes again.
He rose to his feet and nodded to her, raising his hand to his forehead in an improvised duelist’s salute. “Until later, my bright lady.”
Alicent watched him go. Once he was away from her family’s rooms, he was no longer cautious and his walk picked up a bounce and he started to whistle. The jaunty tune eased her spirits. Creeping back to her abandoned bed, she tucked in under the covers and hugged the coil of blankets she’d left to disguise her absence. Her father’s plans still hung over her like an executioner’s sword but it was somehow bearable when she thought of that silver bright grin.
She fell asleep with a smile on her face.