Alicent (HotD/Carmilla)

[Lazer Raptor]

Spoiler: Author's note

Welcome to the result of two of my current brainworms holding hands.

I will be attempting to emulate the style of the original Carmilla. As such, chapters will be written in an epistolary style and will attempt to maintain a Gothic atmosphere where possible. I am by no means an experienced writer of fiction, and I expect to make errors. Please feel free to point them out to me in the thread. I currently have chapter 3 awaiting revision, and plan on posting a new chapter each Saturday until I am done.

Given the source material and its themes, it is inevitable that this story will eventually include at least implied sexual content, or at least sexually charged vampirism. I have thus preemptively tagged this thread as Mature.

I
​

In the Reach, we, although by no means a magnificent or august family, lived in a small red-painted castle we called the Red Keep. The Targaryens were a family of little note and little wealth in Valyria, and it was the decision of my grandfather that we would instead seek our fortune in the service of the Hoares. Although I have known no country save the Triple Monarchy, no home save for Westeros and the Reach, I bear a Valyrian name and distinctly "Valyrian" features. Our estate had been granted for my father's leal service to the Hoare Dynasty, and his pension gave us all the wealth we needed for a comfortable life.

To describe my home is difficult in words, but I shall attempt to do so nonetheless. Although the Reach is known for its rolling fields of grain, the Red Keep lies in one of the isolated forests east of Tumbleton. It can only be reached via a single narrow road, and is surrounded by a moat well stocked with fish. A picturesque stream, crossed by a steep and aged bridge, winds its way through the woods to our south. The nearest village is several leagues away, and my Uncle Daemon's keep is ten leagues removed. The wild beauty of the forest oft takes the breath away, but to our good fortune, the Red Keep has some of the sweetest and cleanest air in all of Westeros, without a hint of miasma.

The only other local landmarks of note are the ruins less than a league to our northeast, which once belonged to the Hightower family. In my father's telling, the Hightowers had once been one of the mightiest families of the Reach, patrons of the Citadel and the Faith. Yet the victory of the Hoares condemned the Hightowers to the woods, until all that was left were crumbling ruins encircling a crumbling tower. We will return to these ruins later.

As one might expect, my childhood was rather solitary. My mother died when I was but an infant, attempting to deliver a son for my father. Instead my father cremated her, and I was raised primarily by my governess, Mrs. Marlow, a rather stern woman who spent much of her energy on containing my younger flights of fancy. My father was terribly indulgent of me, but spent much of his time in melancholy or working on his model of ancient Valyria rather than attending to his fatherly duties. It was my uncle who stepped into the gap. Uncle Daemon was my most frequent visitor, always bringing gifts and showering me with attention. Unlike my father, my uncle encouraged me to cultivate my Valyrian heritage, to let go of any attachment to the sheep and keep the company of dragons. When he was not present, he regularly sent letters to me. At the time I was terribly flattered by it all, now that I am older…. I think he cared about me in a very different way than my father did.

I do not mean to give the impression that I had an unhappy childhood, for I was well cared for and certainly more fortunate than many, but I did have a desire for companionship. There were two or three girls my age who visited sometimes, and I returned the favor on occasion, but otherwise it could be lonely.

There is one particular incident from my childhood which stands out in my memory. It may seem altogether unremarkable, but its significance will become clear later. I must have been no more than nine years of age when one night I awoke from a sound slumber. Looking around my room, I failed to see either a maid or my governess, and while I was not afraid, I was perturbed by my sudden awakening. My eyes would have shortly fluttered shut if not for the solemn yet breath-taking visage I suddenly beheld beside my bed. It belonged to a young woman kneeling beside my bed, her hands beneath my coverlet. I gazed in wonder as she lay down beside me in bed and embraced me kindly. She caressed me gently, and soon I once again drifted off to sleep.

I awoke to a feeling not unlike a pair of needles piercing my chest, and cried out. The lady sharing my bed started, her eyes wide with an unknown emotion, and slipped to the floor. I somehow lost sight of her, and when the maid, housekeeper, and Mrs. Marlow burst in, they made light of my story.

As the maid petted my hair, the trio made a show of examining me for puncture wounds, and explained that they found no sign of anything amiss. Despite their words, I could see anxiety written across their faces, and I doubted they checked beneath the tables, under the bed, in the corners of the room, and within the cupboards for my benefit alone. I could hear the housekeeper whisper to Mrs. Marlow: "Put your hands on that hollow in the bed, it is still warm as if someone did lie there."

All three stayed with me the whole night, and a servant was assigned to stay in my room every night until I reached the age of four and ten. The morning after, I could not bear to be alone, for I was terribly frightened. I recall my father entering my room, talking cheerfully with the nurse, and laughing jovially. He patted me on the shoulder and told me there was nothing to be afraid of, was it just a dream, not something that could hurt me. He continued with a short spiel about how I was a dragon, and dragons should be brave.

It did not help as much as he hoped it would, for I knew in my bones that my visitor was no dream.

The maid claimed that it had been her who had come and looked at me, lying down beside me on my bed, and I had simply mistaken her for another woman in my half-asleep state. Mrs. Marlow supported her account, but I remained unconvinced.

A maester was called for, an elderly man who prescribed medicine to take every other day. I hated taking the medicine, and it rarely seemed to do me any good.

One more man visited that day, a Septon clad in the customary white robe with golden trim, a faded rainbow stole around his neck. His face was gentle, and he spoke to me kindly, informing me that he planned to pray with me, and bade me join my hands to his.

Much of my childhood memories have become hazy with age, but I will always remember, with crystal clarity, the events of that night, and how the next day a sweet old man earnestly prayed with me in his quavering voice.

 

[Lazer Raptor]

II​

What I will now describe is queer enough that it will require you to suspend your disbelief and trust me, for it is not only true, it is a truth which I can bear witness to with both my eyes and my body.

It was a pleasant summer evening, and my father had asked me to take a walk with him in the forest that surrounds the Red Keep.

"Uncle Daemon will not be able to visit us quite as soon as I had hoped," began my father, the disappointment visible on his face.

My uncle was supposed to have stayed with us for several weeks, and until this moment I had been expecting his arrival tomorrow. He had promised to bring his ward, the lady Laena Velaryon, with him. Daemon described her in his letters as a girl close to my age, with a charming personality and a beauty that "almost compared to yours." Just last year, he had fought and won a duel against a prospective suitor of hers, shooting the Braavosi dead in the name of her honor. I had been eagerly awaiting her for weeks, conjuring images of happy days we were to have, and I felt a wave of disappointment wash over me at my father's words.

"When will Uncle Daemon come then?" I asked.

"Not for at least another two moons, I would think," father answered. "I suppose it was a blessing you never got to know your cousin Laena."

My stomach sank at once, and it was with a mix of apprehension and curiosity I asked: "What do you mean by that father?"

"Why, the poor girl is dead," he replied. "I must have forgotten to tell you, but you were not present when I received your uncle's letter."

I was shaken greatly by the news. My uncle's correspondence of a few weeks prior had only mentioned that his ward was not quite as happy and healthy as he would like. Nothing had indicated a serious threat to Lady Velaryon's well being, let alone to her life.

"Here is Daemon's letter" said my father, handing over the missive. "I think Lady Velaryon's death has affected him most severely, for he is filled with the fury which typically means bloodshed."

We sat down under the trees, the sunset casting the sky a faded crimson that reflected off the nearby stream. Our surroundings were as peaceful and idyllic as could be imagined, but the words of Uncle Daemon's letter were exceptionally distressing. Its contents were so extraordinary, so self-contradictory, and so dripping with rage that I had to read the letter twice, and even then I could not fathom what had transpired.

As I still possess the letter in question, I will reproduce it here:

"I have lost my beloved Laena, and I mean to pursue the wretch responsible into the deepest pits of hell!

During the last days of her illness I was unable to write to you. Before that point I had no inkling of what lay in store. Now it is far too late, I have lost her forevermore. I thought I was inviting a new companion for my dear Laena into my keep, but instead I let a snake into our inner sanctum! The scales have been lifted from my eyes, even if belatedly, and now I realize what a fool I have been.

It is fortunate that my ward died without knowledge of who was responsible for her suffering or the nature of the illness which ailed her. The demon responsible for this misery has fled, and I mean to chase her to the ends of the earth. I have devoted myself to tracking her so that I might snuff out the abomination once and for all and extinguish the threat she poses. I curse my softness, my inattention, my arrogance - it has all led to this calamity. I can barely write this letter, such is my fury. I am distracted by my thoughts, by the fire that burns in my blood. As soon as I can collect myself, I will do what any good commander does: gather information. I will seek out every fragmentary scrap of knowledge that concerns my prey, and then I will begin my hunt in earnest. As I write this, my servants are packing my belongings for the journey to Oldtown, and I do not expect to see you for at least another two moons. I will tell you then all which I cannot put to paper. My blood sings for vengeance, and I will have it. Farewell, and pray for me brother, that I might remove the beast's head from her shoulders."

By the time I finished reading, the sun had set, and the forest which had seemed so idyllic now filled me with foreboding.

We were some distance from the Red Keep, and as we walked through the soft evening father and I could speak of nothing except my uncle's letter. Neither of us could make heads or tails of Daemon's ramblings. When we came in sight of the drawbridge, the moonlight illuminated Mrs. Marlow, conversing with a maid.

Father and I joined them, admiring the beauty of a summer night in the Reach. In front of us lay the sylvan glade we had emerged from. To our left, the narrow road disappeared into the thick forest and its shadows. On our right, the same road crossed the steep bridge over the nearby stream, passing a ruined tower that had once stood guard there and vanishing into dense woodland seeded with mossy rocks.

The mood was melancholy, but the night was striking nonetheless. A low mist crawled upon the ground as reflected moonlight gleamed in the stream. As my father regarded the vista with no small amount of enjoyment, I could hear my governess and the maid discuss the nature of the night.

The maid was something of a romantic, who saw the night in poetry, while Mrs. Marlow instead assumed a mystical point of view, asserting that the moonlight only shone like this when an event of spiritual significance was occurring. According to her studies, this sort of moonlight could alternatively twist dreams, incite nervousness, and restore life. She spoke of a cousin who had fallen asleep under the bright light of the moon and gone mad, clawing at his own face when he awoke.

A maester would have rebuked her for her superstitions, but Father paid no heed to her words, and I was in a mood to simply listen to the chit chat of other people, enjoying the tinkle of their light conversation in my ears after what I had read. Father was not in such good spirits.

"I am in a mood," he said. "I feel melancholy yet agitated, as though a great misfortune looms over us like an executioner waiting for the order. I suspect your uncle's words played no small part in this mood, and I-"

The sound of carriage wheels and clip clopping of hooves halted him mid-sentence, his head turning to search for the culprit. The sounds had come from our right, from the rocky woodland that lay above the bridge. Two horsemen soon entered our view on the high ground and proceeded towards the bridge, followed by a carriage, with two more horsemen bringing up the rear.

Nobody but a person of rank would receive such an escort, and all four of us watched the procession with interest. Moments later, as the carriage passed the summit of the steep bridge, one of the horses started, pulling the rest of the team into a wild gallop. They barreled right through the gap between the two forward horsemen, dragging the carriage downwards at perilously high speed.

Panicked shouts and a distinctly feminine scream echoed across the distance between us and the unfolding catastrophe, and with a jolt we started into motion, my frantic silence contrasting with the fearful ejaculations of my father and the servants. Morbid curiosity had mixed with terror in my breast, my thoughts flickering to Laena's sudden death, and I led the way through the mist.

It did not take long for my curiosity to be satisfied in the most dramatic of fashions.

Right before one would turn to visit the Red Keep, a stout and stately tree stands on one side of the road, magnificent in its size and age. On the other side a weathered seven-pointed star rises from the ground, and at the sight of it the horses swerved, pulling the carriage's front wheel over the roots of the tree.

This sudden unbalancing flipped the carriage on its side and brought two of its team of horses low with a terrific crash of wood that elicited a cry from the other ladies. As the horsemen rushed to the scene, I thought that the Stranger had come to pay us a visit for the second time that night.

Before the men could dismount, the door of the carriage swung open from the inside, and a figure emerged from within. As we drew closer, I could see her, unmistakably a woman dressed in men's clothing.

She gestured towards one of the horsemen, and together they lifted a limp young lady through the door. My father was already speaking to one of the other horsemen, tendering his aid and the services of the Red Keep. The strange woman had laid the maiden down on the slope of the bank, and appeared to be checking her for inventory.

I approached them; while the young lady was stunned, she was certainly not deceased. My father, fancying himself something of a maester himself, placed his fingers on her wrist and pronounced that her pulse, though faint and irregular, could still be felt.

The older woman retorted with a wry smile: "Thank you for confirming what I already know, kind ser. I am her mother, though you may call me Talya."

She was a rather handsome woman, and I thought she must have received many offers of marriage in her youth. She was tall, but not willowy, and her reddish hair was tied back into a severe looking bun. Dressed in all black, her pale face exuded pride and authority, even as her smile morphed into a scowl.

"The Gods themselves must have cursed us to misfortune" I heard her mutter as I approached. "Here we are, on a journey of life and death, without a minute to lose, and now I must choose between the well-being of my daughter and a potentially lethal delay."

She turned to my father, "Good ser, how far away is the nearest village? I may need to leave her with someone else while I continue onwards, and if so, I will not see her for another three months."

I was examining the girl, for she seemed familiar somehow, when my father spoke up: "Why, my dear, there is no need to worry about that. If you will entrust your child to my family's care, and permit her to remain as a guest at the Red Keep until your return, we would be most honored. We would treat her with all the care and devotion such a trusted guest deserves."

"Nonsense, I don't want to impose upon your chivalry," said the lady, waving her hand.

For whatever reason, my father continued to press his case: "On the contrary, to do such a thing would be a great kindness to us at the moment. As you can see, I have a daughter of similar age to your daughter. She is in great need of companionship, and only today was informed that a much awaited visitor would not be coming. Your daughter could provide her with the company she has most sorely lacked until now. In addition, the nearest village is still several leagues away, and it lacks an inn where your daughter could stay. To continue your journey with her would be to place her in danger, and if your errand is as urgent as you say, you cannot afford to delay or suspend it. As such, you must part with her tonight, and I can think of no safer or more comfortable place to do so than with us."

The woman looked him up and down, clearly considering his arguments, before taking a look at her daughter. Her gaze did not hold as much of the tenderness or concern the situation seemed to merit, and she made her decision quickly, gesturing to my father to speak privately.

While we had been talking, the carriage's escort had righted it and returned the horses to their traces with admirable efficiency.

My father conversed with the lady for two or three minutes, speaking rapidly and with a bearing that implied her words were earnest and of vital import. Her behavior had been most strange, and I was in wonder that my father seemed totally unaware of this fact, instead shooting glances at where the younger lady lay, supported by Mrs. Marlow. When Tayla finished addressing my father, she knelt by her daughter, kissing her on her cheek and whispering a benediction. Then she stepped away and climbed into her carriage. The footmen had retaken their positions, the escort had formed up, and with a crack of a whip the carriage plunged forward and soon disappeared from view.

 

[Lazer Raptor]

III​

The woods grew quiet, and if not for the young lady left in our care, I could almost have thought it all a dream. It was of course at this moment that she finally opened her eyes. I could not see her face, for she was turned away from me, but she raised her head and examined her surroundings.

I heard a pleasant voice ask with some degree of concern, "Where is my mother?"

Before Mrs. Marlow could explain, our guest continued, "Where am I? What is this place? I see neither the carriage nor Mysaria."

Upon hearing this, my father spoke up, much to Mrs. Marlow's annoyance:

"Hello darling, I am Viserys Targaryen, and you are on the road leading to my humble estate, the Red Keep. I know not who or what this Mysaria you speak of is, but your mother had no choice but to leave you here while she continued onwards on her errand. You are to be our guest of honor for three months before she will return for you."

The girl hung her head, and Mrs. Marlow rather indignantly exclaimed that we should stop crowding around the poor girl and get her to bed.

I still felt like I recognized the girl, and I swore to myself that as soon as she was settled in her bed I would visit her. My mind was filled with thoughts of either how wonderful or how wretched her stay could be, and I resolved to pester Father into revealing all that he had been told about her.

He had already dispatched a servant on horseback to fetch the Maester, and made sure a bedroom was being prepared for our guest.

Our mysterious guest rose, taking Mrs. Marlow's arm. Together, we strolled over the drawbridge and into the Red Keep.

Servants already waited to receive us in the hall, and with a flurry of motion they swept our dear stranger to her room.

Our drawing room has four large windows which look out upon the forest vistas I have previously described, and is furnished with old carved oak and plush velvet alike. The most modest Valyrian tapestries my family possesses hang proudly above large cabinets, covering the walls with depictions of dragons, warfare, hunting, and conquest. It was in this comfortable room, that the remainder of our party settled in to sip tea and discuss the night's events by candlelight.

Mrs. Marlow had already returned, for the young stranger had hardly laid down before sleep took her into its depths, and my governess had left her in the care of a servant.

I practically vibrated with anticipation as she entered the room, but retained enough of my manners to wait until she was seated to ask her about our guest and to request that she spare no details.

Mrs. Marlow practically gushed with praise for our visitor, "Without exaggeration I can say she is one of the prettiest creatures I have ever laid eyes upon. She is about your age, and seems like a kind girl."

"Her voice is like honey itself!" added one of the maids.

Now Mrs. Marlow grew pensive for a second, before turning to my father and asking:

"Did you happen to see another woman in the carriage besides Talya and her daughter? I thought I caught a glimpse of another woman while the carriage was leaving."

"I saw nothing of the sort," my father answered.

"I believe she was a dark haired woman of Lyseni extraction, wearing a white dress and gazing out the window with piercing eyes."

We sat in silence for a moment, before my father was moved to speak:

"I was far more concerned about those servants. I have never seen a group of more ugly hang-dog fellows in my life. I would not be surprised if later in the night they robbed their own carriage. They were efficient though, despite their disreputable appearance, they had the carriage right as rain in a remarkably short amount of time."

Mrs. Marlow retorted that "perhaps we should judge children of the Seven by their deeds instead of their appearances"

Quite unperturbed, my father continued as if he had not heard Mrs. Marlow:

"They looked Ghiscari to me, dark and slender, and you know how those harpies are. I wonder what could have possibly possessed a noble family to hire servants known for their tendency towards idleness and malfeasance? I suppose we probably will not find out until our guest's mother returns."

This sort of comment only solidified interest in whatever he had discussed with Talya.

The conversation dragged on for a while longer, and when we had dispersed and I had my father alone, I immediately pressed him to tell me what the woman in men's clothing had spoken of. He relinquished the information without a struggle:

"There is no particular reason why I should not tell you. She expressed a reluctance to trouble us with the care of her daughter, saying she was in delicate health, and very nervous, with a tendency to pick at herself when anxious, but has never been afflicted with hallucinations or insanity."

"How odd," I interjected, "why would she feel the need to specify that? It feels entirely unnecessary!"

"Regardless, she did say it, which caused me some amount of concern," he chuckled, "and she also said 'I am making a long journey of vital importance—she emphasized the word—rapid and secret; I shall return for my child in three months; in the meantime, she will be silent as to who we are, whence we come, and whither we are traveling.' and that was it."

My thirst for answers quenched, I let myself feel the excitement I had been holding in for some time now. Oh how I longed to speak with her, to investigate that strange familiarity, to get to know her, and to make a new friend. I still had to wait for the maester to examine her, but I was more than willing to stay up as long as necessary for such a rare occasion.

It was long past midnight when Maester Mellos arrived at the door, but I could no more sleep than outrun a carriage. I was idly reading one of the books Uncle Daemon gifted to me when Mellos entered the drawing room. He reported that his patient had sustained no serious injury, her pulse was steady, her breathing level, and she was now sitting up, having recovered from the shock to her system.

I sent a servant to inquire if I could visit with our guest for a few minutes, and shortly thereafter was ushered into her room.

We had placed our visitor in one of the more handsome rooms of the keep, filled with color and life. Candles cast their light across her as she sat comfortably in her silk dressing gown, her pretty figure enveloped in soft fabric embroidered with flowers.

When I at last beheld her face, the breath fled from my lungs and my eyes widened, for sitting before me was the beautiful woman who I had seen all those years before. Candlelight illuminated soulful brown eyes set in striking features framed by long auburn tresses.

When she saw my face her melancholy expression parted to reveal a slim but genuine smile, and her doe-eyed gaze now held a welcoming warmth to it.

It took several seconds of my stunned silence for her to take pity on me.

"You will not believe me, but ten years ago I saw your face in my dreams, and it has haunted me ever since."

I pulled myself from my stupor, pushing my anxieties to the back of my mind, and I could feel my lips twisting into a wry grin.

"I believe you with all my heart, for ten years ago I dreamed that you had appeared in my room and laid on my bed. Even if it was a dream, a face as beautiful as yours is very difficult to forget."

Her smile had softened, and her cheeks dimpled very prettily. She looked at me with no small amount of amusement, and any fear I possessed fled me at once.

I now spoke of how happy I was about her arrival in spite of the less than ideal circumstances which left her here. I welcomed her to my home, and bade her to make herself comfortable in it.

As I spoke, I took her hand. Her hand was soft, but fading marks on her cuticles testified to a tendency to pick at them. I grew bolder and more eloquent, for I felt the immediate desire to make her smile more. Clasping my hand, she met my gaze and blushed faintly. Something indescribable glittered in her eyes as she accepted my welcome, and when I finished, she beckoned me to sit beside her.

I sat down, still wondering how we could know each other; and she began to speak:

"I must tell you my vision of you, for it is so very strange that you and I should have had such vivid dreams about each other. It is even more peculiar that both of us dreamed of the other as we are now when both of us were mere children. I was perhaps nine years old when I seemingly awoke from some troubled and confused dream. I found myself in a room quite unlike my own, waistcoated in dark wood and furnished with cupboards, benches, cabinets, and a bed. I thought the room was empty, and after spending a brief time examining the room, began to creep towards the window. But then I heard someone stir, and when I looked up from my knees I saw you. You looked as you do now, a stunning young lady with violet eyes and flowing silver hair. Even your lips entranced me."

Growing up in the countryside, it was quite uncommon for a stunning lady of my age to compliment me and affirm my own beauty. It was for this reason, and this reason only, that I blushed at her words. Seemingly indifferent to my plight, she continued her story:

"Won over by your looks, I climbed on the bed and put my arms around you. I think we both must have fallen asleep, because I was aroused by you screaming. Panicked, I fell off your bed and onto the ground, and then I was back in my room, in my own bed. After such a dream, there was no way for me to forget your face. I would not be misled by a mere resemblance; you are the woman from my dream."

After hearing such a tale, it fell upon me to disclose my own experience (which one may find in chapter one of this manuscript). She regarded me with undisguised wonder.

"I don't know which of us should be more afraid of the other," she said with a smile, "if you were less pretty I think I would be very much afraid of this development and of your person. You are a beautiful lady of a similar age, and it must be for this reason that I merely feel that I made your acquaintance a decade ago. I feel almost as though from childhood we were destined to become friends, and thus that I already have a right to your intimacy. I wonder whether you feel as strangely drawn towards me as I do to you? I have had few friends in my life - will I find one in you?" She sighed, and those marvelous brown eyes gazed at me with passion.

Now the truth is I felt rather unaccountably towards the beautiful stranger. I did feel drawn to her, like I was at ease with her, but something else twisted in my stomach, an unfamiliar feeling I could not express. Wariness still remained, but my sense of attraction to her immensely prevailed. She interested me, she was so strikingly beautiful and indescribably engaging.

I perceived now something of languor and exhaustion stealing over her, and hastened to bid her good night.

"The doctor thinks," I ventured, "that you ought to have a maid to sit with you tonight; one of ours is waiting, and you will find her a very useful and quiet companion. She served as a night time chaperone for me until my fourteenth nameday."

"How kind of you, but I could not sleep, I never could with an attendant in the room. I cannot help but worry that I am dreadfully vulnerable whenever I sleep, but it would only heighten my anxieties to keep a servant in my room. When I was younger our home was broken into by robbers, who slay two of the servants, and so I always lock my door. Would you forgive me if I continue to do so in your care? I see there is already a key in the lock."

I nodded, and then she embraced me, wrapping me in soft but strong arms. I felt as though my heart skipped a beat, and her breath formed goosebumps on the skin of my neck.

Her words came in a whisper, "good night, darling, it is very hard to part with you, but we must sleep now. I will see you again tomorrow."

She sank back onto the pillow with a sigh and looked at me with a fond but somewhat melancholy gaze.

It was this gaze that spurred me to action, and so I posed a question, "before I go, may I ask your name? I do not recall you mentioning it, and I would like to know what to call my new friend."

"My name is Alicent," she replied with another smile.

"A pretty name for a pretty girl. My name is Rhaenyra, and I very much look forward to getting to know you better. Good night Alicent."

Young people like, and even love, impulsively. I was flattered by the evident, though as yet undeserved, fondness she showed me. Her intelligence and beauty endeared her to me in spite of any misgivings I might have had. When I lay down in my bed I resolved that we would become the best of friends.

Next day came and we met again. I was delighted with my companion in many respects.

Alicent's looks lost nothing in daylight—she was certainly the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. The unpleasant reminder of my youthful terror had faded away, and all that was left was the charming lady sitting across from me. She rapidly confirmed my estimation of her intelligence, debating with Father about ancient Valyrian blood magic of all things. She pivoted just as easily to a discussion of local fauna with me, and happily accepted my offer of a stroll through the woods. When Alicent and I left to take a stroll, I felt my father's gaze upon us, and chuckled at his overprotectiveness. If I knew what I knew now, I doubt I would have found it as humorous.

Spoiler: A/N

So I lied when I said I would post this on Saturday, I got Chapter 4 done a lot faster than I thought I would, and so I am uploading Chapter 3 now instead of on Saturday as I had planned. If I make good time, I may be able to finish Chapter 5 and post Chapter 4 by Saturday!

 

[Lazer Raptor]

IV
​

I have confessed that I was most charmed by Alicent's beauty and intelligence, but thus far I have neglected to adequately describe her.

She was slightly taller than the average woman, slender, and oh so wonderfully graceful. Her complexion was rich and brilliant; her features were fine and beautifully formed. I adored her eyes, dark brown pools which held a peculiar sadness in them. Her auburn hair was magnificently long and soft around her shoulders. I often played with it, laughing as I pulled it out of a braid before braiding it again, running my hands through it and drawing near to her. Even Alicent's scent started to become appealing to me, possessing me with a peculiar urge to begin nestling into the crook of her neck. Oh if I only had known!

Not every aspect of her pleased me. Her confidence which had won me over the first night was matched by a seemingly unbreakable reticence regarding her mother, her family, and her past life. I perhaps should not have prodded her so ardently, I ought to have respected the injunction laid upon my father by the handsome woman who called herself Alicent's mother, but my curiosity for my new companion was endless. I wanted to know everything about her, and I could not fathom why she was so reluctant to part with any information in spite of my oaths to keep her secrets.

I could say we quarreled over this point, but she refused to quarrel over it. It was unfair of me to press her, quite unbecoming of my station even, but I desperately desired to understand her, and I have never been the best at restraining my desires.

What she did tell me could be summed up in three vague disclosures:

• Her name was Alicent
• Her family was very ancient and noble.
• Her home was to the Northeast

She would not tell me the name of her family, nor their coat of arms, nor the name of their estate, nor even what region of Westeros they lived in.

You are not to suppose that I worried Alicent incessantly on these subjects. I waited for the opportunity, and rather insinuated than urged my inquiries. Once or twice, indeed, I did address her more directly. But no matter what my tactics, utter failure was invariably the result. Reproaches and caresses were all lost upon her. Yet her evasion was conducted with so pretty a melancholy and deprecation, with so many, and even passionate declarations of her liking for me, reassurances that she trusted my honor, and with so many promises that I would know all in good time, that I could not for the life of me find it in my heart to be wroth towards her.

She used to place her pretty arms about my neck, draw me to her, and lay her cheek to mine, murmuring with her lips near my ear, "Nyra, I understand why this is difficult for you, but do not believe for a moment that I distrust you. If your heart is wounded, mine bleeds in concert with yours, for it pains me to keep such a distance between us. At present I live within your warm life, but over time I shall draw you sweetly into mine. Until that time, openness and candor would only imperil us both. I cannot help it; so, for a while, seek to know no more of me and mine, but trust me with all your loving spirit."

When she had whispered such a rhapsody, she would clutch me tighter in her trembling embrace, and lay soft kisses upon my glowing cheek.

Sometimes she spoke of sweet death and cruel love, and I could not for the life of me discern what her words or actions meant.

At first I wished to extricate myself from such occasional embraces, but my energies failed me. Her words, like a sweet lullaby in my ear, soothed me, and her touch aroused a peculiar feeling of warmth and contentment, such that I found it most difficult to move until she withdrew her arms.

In these mysterious moods I did not like Alicent. I instead experienced a strange tumultuous excitement that was pleasurable, ever and anon, mingled with a vague sense of fear and disgust directed towards myself. I had no distinct thoughts about her while such scenes lasted, but I was conscious of a love growing into adoration, and also of abhorrence. This I know is a paradox, but I can make no other attempt to explain the feeling.

As I write, I know what name to give to this experience, but at the time, I had not an inkling of what ailed me, and it scared me to feel such a way. Yet I never protested, nor tried to stop her, for I craved the sensations more than I feared them, could feel them wrap their vines around my heart and squeeze.

Sometimes, my strange and beautiful companion would sweep into the room after a time away from me, grasping my hand and holding it with a fond pressure. She would blush softly, gazing at my face with languid heat in her doe-eyes, her breathing coming quickly enough that her dress visibly rose and fell with her respirations, as though she were returning from a run. It was like the ardor of a lover, it was perverse and yet enticing, and with shimmering eyes she would draw me to her. Her hot lips traveled along my cheek in kisses, and she would whisper, almost in sobs, "You are mine, I shall be yours, you and I shall be one forevermore." Then she would drop my hand as if burned and throw herself back in her chair, hiding her face in her hands.

As we both trembled, I would ask her "What can you mean by this? Are we related? I do not know myself when you look at me and speak such words. I do not understand…"

Alicent would shake her head at my queries and finger at the seven pointed star around her neck, guilt evident in her features. She would invariably apologize, and I would drop the matter, but she never explained what she meant by these outbursts. For an hour or two more, she would wear a mask of politeness, but her eyes would once again be full of that deep sadness which pulled at my heart.

I strove in vain to develop a theory which could explain these extraordinary outbursts of passion, followed by shame and withdrawal. I could not wave them away as affectation or a trick, for they were unmistakably momentary explosions of suppressed instinct and emotion.

For a brief time I wondered if in spite of her mother's protestations Alicent was subject to bouts of momentary insanity, but this seemed altogether too uncharitable and unlikely. Then my mind turned to old romances, and I pondered if my companion was perchance a suitor in disguise? Perhaps Alicent was a boy who had found his way into my home via masquerade and was attempting to pursue my affections with the help of a cunning and seasoned adventuress. This would explain both my curious feelings and her actions in a single stroke. Alas, I was forced to discard this theory as well in light of a bevy of obvious flaws.

Notwithstanding the boost to my vanity it would provide, simple reason militated against the idea of a crossdressing suitor. Alicent's embraces left little doubt in my mind that she possessed a woman's figure, and she filled out her clothes in a fashion that no man, no matter how boyish, could easily replicate. Furthermore, in such stories it was customary for the man to reveal the ruse to his intended, for otherwise how would she know she was being courted? No, even without seeing Alicent unclothed, I was certain she could not be a man. Thwarted, I abandoned my attempts to find a theory to explain her behavior, and accepted her as she was.

My new companion had odd habits, perhaps less unusual for a lady of the town, but certainly unusual to my rustic eyes. She would not rise from bed until midday, and take a cup of tea but not eat any food. Then she would go on a walk with me through the forest, carrying a book, but many days she would soon grow tired and either return to the Red Keep or sit, whether atop a bench or in the shade of a tree, and read.

Alicent's physical languor seemed to have little bearing on her mental sharpness, for she revealed herself to be not only intelligent, but also exceptionally well read. She was quick on her feet, spoke eloquently, and was knowledgeable about a dizzying number of subjects.

I thought perhaps this was why my father began to request her presence at night, for within a week of Alicent's arrival, he often asked her to visit with him in his chamber. When I asked Alicent what he wanted, she said that he typically just wanted her to help him with his model of Ancient Valyria, to read a book for him while he worked, or to argue some point of Valyrian history. She seemed most perplexed at why he would want her to do so, but it made perfect sense to me. She was a lovely conversational partner, and in truth I disliked my father stealing her away from me on a regular basis when she was my companion.

One day, Alicent and I were lying under a tree, my head resting in her lap. One of her hands held the book she was reading from, while the other gently caressed my hair.

This idyllic scene was disrupted by the appearance of a funeral procession along the road. It was for a young woman from the nearest village, the only child of a woodsman, who walked behind the carriage with a stricken expression.

The village's Silent Sister accompanied him, and the other villagers walked behind him in rows of two, singing a funeral hymn. I rose to mark my respect as they passed, and joined them in song.

Alicent, initially perturbed at my sudden movement, froze when she saw the casket. I missed her query, but I stopped singing and turned to her.

Her face was still drawn and mostly passive, but her eyes were filled with an emotion I could not place. Her voice came out in a whisper. "Who is that?"

My reply was soft, "It is the daughter of a woodsman who resides in the local village. Apparently his daughter claimed to have seen a ghost one night, and soon fell ill. She expired the day before yesterday, and my father has gone to the graveyard with the septon to pay his respects."

Guilt flashed across her face before she smoothed it into what I now recognized as a well honed mask of politeness. Her eyes swung towards the procession, and we sat in silence for a moment before she spoke with trembling voice:

"I do not know her, I do not even know her name. I would have liked to at least know her name. I understand the Stranger is not a cruel god, but at times like this it certainly feels cruel all the same. She is gone, never having lived her life to its fullest, and her father is heartbroken."

I took Alicent's hand then, and spoke softly to her, "Ali, you know there is nothing to be done. Nobody can bring back the dead."

I was shocked when she whirled on me with sudden anger:

"Do you think I am unaware of that Rhaenyra? 'All men must die,' as the Braavosi say, but despite what a priest of the Many-Faced-God might say, even in death we are unequal! The Stranger may take me at any hour, but I will die having known comforts and luxuries that the girl in that casket has never seen. You are blessed Rhaenyra. When you die it will be like the embrace of a lover, and you will live on forevermore, but the daughter of a woodsman had no such luck."

Agape at this outburst, I was even more confused by her words, for she spoke with such certainty of how I would die, and proclaimed I would live on forevermore! Before I could gather my wits and ask her what she meant, she had already stormed off.

It was the first time I had ever seen her display any sort of temper, or even raise her voice. When I returned to the Red Keep, I found her gazing out a window, picking at her cuticles, and I could not pry a single word out of her.

The next day, she apologized for losing her temper, and begged my forgiveness for her cruelty. I, weakened by her doe-eyed gaze, quickly forgave her, and it was as if the events of that day had never happened.

We continued onwards, settling back into our routine, but there is one day in particular which stands out to me now as important.

Alicent and I were sitting and conversing in the courtyard when we spotted a visitor crossing the drawbridge into the Keep with the aid of a walking stick. He was a wanderer by the name of Larys Strong, who my father and I knew quite well from his biannual visits to the Red Keep.

Larys had been born with a clubfoot, and his family subsequently perished in an unfortunate fire. As per usual he was clad in black and carried with him a diverse collection of curios, trinkets, and charms against evils.

He stopped in the middle of the courtyard, removed his cap, and made an exaggerated bow of sorts towards us, his face splitting with a smile that did not reach his eyes. I could feel Alicent close off under his gaze. All gaiety fled her features, her mask of indifference slid into place, and a hardness entered into her eyes.

I felt rather like I had been doused in icy water. Never before had I seen her with such a look, and I felt queasy at the gaze Larys directed our way. Alicent must have noticed my discomfort, for she got up and addressed Larys coldly: "Why have you come here, clubfoot?"

His reply was most confusing: "Why I thought I would offer you my services, for I hear there is a ghost stalking the village, preying on pretty young things like yourself." He reached into a pouch and withdrew two oblong strips of vellum, adorned with ciphers and diagrams of a sort. "I would give you these charms, which are said to protect against creatures of darkness who would strike while you slumber."

Perturbed, I reached for my coin purse and purchased both charms, one for myself, and one for my companion. Larys seemed amused that I had purchased one for Alicent, but before he could speak his mind, she was leading him away from me, icily informing him she would like to speak with him in private.

Whatever they spoke of, it did not take long, and after glancing at me, Larys limped out of the courtyard, a smirk on his face as he whistled a tune.

When I asked what they had spoken of, all Alicent would tell me is that I should not be bothered by him any longer, and that if I was, she would handle it. My heart warmed at the gesture, and I rather suddenly hugged her, causing her cheeks to redden in surprise as she returned the hug. Whatever she had said, she must have said it to protect me! When I went to bed, I dreamed of her as my valiant knight, shielding me from evil.

Larys' strange warning was the furthest thing from my mind.

Spoiler: A/N

Apologies, I have been prepping for a move and have not gotten as much writing done as I would have liked. Thank God I maintained a buffer. As always, I hope you enjoy!

 

[Lazer Raptor]

V​

Alicent and I spent our days in a bubble of gaiety and comradery, content in the comforts of the Red Keep. Others, as Alicent had reminded me, were not so lucky.

While I grew closer to my dear companion, a shadow slowly crept over the local village. More villagers, all of them women, had reported encounters with ghosts, and some had fallen ill. Rumors of a giant black cat stalking the woods circulated, and my father had grown concerned over these developments. He did what any sensible man would do, and sent for a maester.

Maester Mellos was of no help whatsoever, blaming the whole affair on peasant superstition. I thought this would satisfy my father, but at Uncle Daemon's insistence my father had been corresponding with a maester by the name of Gerardys about Old Valyria. Father, dissatisfied with Mellos, chose to invite Geradys to obtain a "second opinion" as it were.

I had never met another Maester before this point, so I was most eager to take the measure of this newcomer. Where Mellos was round, balding, and prone to bluster, Gerardys' eyes sparkled with intelligence beneath his gray hair. He only spoke with me for a short while before my father led him into the study, but I believed him far more trustworthy and knowledgeable than Mellos at once.

I said as much to Alicent as we strolled through the woods, and she laughed, saying that anyone could be an improvement over Mellos. She grumbled about how "peasant superstition" does not typically leave people dead, rambling about the decline in the average Maester's knowledge of folklore and of the arrogance of the Citadel "these days". Looking at her with affection, I spoke wistfully:

"You would make such a good Maester Ali, you're smarter than any Maester I've ever seen."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't Mellos the only Maester you've known? He hardly compares to some of the men who lead the Citadel. Their arrogance is not entirely unfounded, and I am far from a scholar, simply a girl who enjoys the act of learning."

"Do not degrade yourself for not being a scholar when such a path has been closed for you! Men who choose to become Maesters do not start out as scholars, and it unfair to expect a girl of nine and ten to already be superior to those who have had a lifetime to hone their craft"

She was looking at me in surprise, and I felt the sudden urge to kiss her cheek and embrace her come over me. Blushing, I stamped my feelings down and spun away, sputtering about how we should go check on my father. Given the fond smile that snuck across her face, I did not appear to have succeeded.

When we returned to the Red Keep, my father was finishing a conversation with Gerardys. I could hear Father's laughter, and I overhead the tail end of an exchange:

"... a Maester who believes in such things, I will have to pick your brain on Firewyrms and Wyverns sometime!"

The Maester smiled, and shrugged his shoulders:

"Life and Death are mysterious things. In truth, we know much less about such matters than we like to think. I think I will go to the village and conduct some fieldwork, see if I can confirm my suspicions. It has been a pleasure meeting you Mr. Targaryen."

He bade us farewell, and I wondered what he could possibly have been talking about, but Father disclosed nothing to me, and I put it out of my mind.

It so happened that the next evening brought the grave-faced son of the picture cleaner, accompanied by his horse and a cart filled with two large packing cases. Whenever a traveler from Tumbleton arrived at our little keep, having made a journey of more than a dozen leagues, it created quite the sensation. This evening was no exception

We crowded around him in the entrance hall, eager to hear whatever news he had for us. Father had the servants prepare our visitor supper. When the man had finished supper, he met us in the hall, carrying a chisel, hammer, and turnscrew.

Alicent sat nearby, her nose in a book pilfered from my father's study, while one after the old paintings were brought to light. My mother hailed from the highly prestigious House Arryn of The Vale, former royalty of the purest Andal heritage. Most of these pictures had come to us through her, and depicted either a view of the Vale or some august personage. My father ceased to display such paintings after my mother's death, but he never got rid of them.

Now Father stood with a list in his hand, reading out numbers as the picture cleaner's apprentice rummaged for the corresponding painting. Their quality and subject varied, but they were invariably quite aged. Many I had never seen, and I was curious as to what years of dust and decay had hidden.

"There is a picture I have not seen," said my father, "In one corner is the name, which as far as I could make out was Lecila Hightower, and the date, 20 A.U."

I remembered it, it was small, nearly square and lacking a frame, so blackened I could not make it out.

The artist now produced it with evident pride, and the breath stole from my lungs. It was shockingly beautiful, full of life and color, and depicted of all things the very effigy of Alicent!

She was frozen, staring at it in disbelief. All the color seemed to have drained from her face. One hand clutched at the seven pointed star around her neck, and the other bunched up her skirts.

Something tugged at my heart at the sight, and I resolved on a course of action.

"This is an absolute miracle Ali. Whoever sat for this portrait looked just like you do. Is it not a beautiful sight Papa? The curl of her hair, the depth of her gaze, the softness of her skin; all are rendered in such detail!"

"Certainly it bears… quite the resemblance," mumbled Father, already moving onto the next painting. He paid more attention to his discussion with the painting cleaner's son, who considered himself something of an artist. I examined the painting more closely, and was struck that it really did look almost exactly like Alicent, and I resolved that I would like to have it in my room.

My father, still distracted, agreed without thinking, and with a wave of his hand dismissed me with my prize in hand and Alicent in tow. Her eyes were wide as I led her to my room, and when we arrived I gestured for her to sit on the bed as I found a spot to hang the portrait.

My task completed, I turned around to find my companion gazing at me with those beautiful eyes, hidden under long lashes, a smile of rapture on her face. I warmed at the sight, and I felt the need to impress her swell within my breast.

"As you can see, my father misread the name on the painting. It is in fact Lecinta Hightower, not Lecila. They say she was the last scion of House Hightower, the one time rulers of Oldtown. I know not how this portrait came into my mother's possession, but the former Hightower estate lies less than a league to our northeast, now naught but crumbling ruins. There are tales in the village of a terrible fire which claimed the last of the Hightowers, and I wonder if perhaps this painting was blackened not from age but from soot."

Alicent looked at me with no small amount of amusement, before shaking her head affectionately.

"I do suspect this Lecinta to have been some sort of relative of mine, my mother always told me I had Hightower blood after all. That being said, it looks lovely outside, would you care to stroll with me?"

She gestured towards the window, where the moon illuminated mist gently stealing across the floor of the forest. I could not help but think it resembled the night Alicent came to us, and I gladly assented to her request.

Taking her arm, I led her past my father, still engrossed in discussion about paintings, and we strolled into the woods together.

We walked in silence for a time, my head filled with thoughts of nothing except the girl on my arm. It was inevitable that I would give voice to some of them, breaking the comfortable silence:

"I am absolutely delighted to have your company. I feel guilty for thinking this, and I mean no offense, but I am perversely grateful for the accident which forced you to stay with us. Otherwise I do not know if I ever would have met you, Ali."

Alicent drew her arm tightly around my waist, and let her pretty head sink softly onto my shoulder. Her voice came out as almost a whisper:

"And you asked for the picture you think like me, to hang in your room. I do not begrudge you Nyra, not in the slightest. I too have given thanks to the Seven for bringing us together, and I do not regret for a moment the time I have spent with you."

My face warmed with her closeness, and my heart beat faster at the feeling of her body pressed against me. I felt as though I was a maiden in a romance novel, but there was no dashing bachelor in sight!

"How romantic you are Alicent," I said, "whenever you tell me your story, I feel as though it will chiefly comprise some great romance. I am sure you are at this moment involved in some great affair of the heart."

She kissed my cheek silently, and with aching honesty she murmured these words:

"My heart yearns for nobody, save for you."

Oh how beautiful she looked in the moonlight!

Alicent buried her face in my neck and hair with a sudden desperation, and with shaking hands embraced me.

I froze in her embrace, acutely aware of the sensations which assailed me. I could feel the softness of her lips, how her cheek glowed against mine, and the warmth of her breath against my neck. I could feel the way her curves melded with mine and the manner in which her hair gently brushed my face.

My heart urged me to comfort her, and almost without thought I wrapped my arms around her trembling frame.

Her words emerged as a tumultuous sigh and a choked sob, so quietly my ears strained to hear them:

"Oh my darling, my beautiful and wondrous Rhaenyra, I live within you, and you live within my heart. I love you more than any other. Forgive me, for I am terribly greedy, and you will die for me."

At this, I started away, my thoughts jumbled and confused.

Alicent met my gaze with confusion.

"Is there a chill in the air?" she inquired in that voice which sent shivers down my spine, "I think perhaps we should head indoors now."

"Are you quite alright Ali? You are acting strangely"

"Yes, I am fine, but I suspect it would be to my benefit if we retired for the night."

"Are you certain of this? Father would be grieved beyond measure if you fell ill without telling us, and we have both Maester Mellos and Maester Gerardys at our disposal if you need a maester."

I was beginning to become concerned that she had contracted whatever malady ailed the women of the nearby village. Even if her words confused and frightened me, she was precious to me, and I did not desire any harm to come to her.

She reassured me that she was only a little tired, and led me back into the keep.

We sat down in the drawing room, where Father and Mrs. Marlow joined us, having just seen off the picture cleaner's apprentice. We took our tea, and although Alicent did not drink any, she seemed herself again. Mrs. Marlow made a little card party for us, and when the game was over, my father sat down on the sofa next to Alicent.

He asked her, somewhat anxiously, if she had received any word from her mother. When she shook her head, he inquired if she knew when such a letter would arrive.

"I cannot say," she confessed, "but I have thought of leaving you. You have been much too kind to me already, and I have given you altogether too much trouble. I had the notion of taking a carriage tomorrow in pursuit of her. I know where I can find her, even though I dare not tell you."

"You must not think of such things," my father exclaimed, with fear that mirrored my own. "We cannot lose you so, and I will not tolerate your departure unless you are leaving in the care of your mother, who I must speak to. She told us to take care of you until her return, and that is what we shall do. I would be most delighted if I knew you had heard from her, but I would be most saddened without our little talks."

Before the ugly stirrings of jealousy could induce me to speak, Alicent, wearing a strained smile, responded: "You do not need to worry, good ser. I had already resolved to remain in your care for the moment."

Her smile morphed into something more genuine, and she shot an affectionate look at me, "I can say that the time I have spent under your roof, in the company of your beautiful daughter, has given me some of the happiest days of my life."

Something clenched in my chest at this statement, and I wondered if this was what it was like to have a dear friend, if this was what I had been missing thus far in my life.

Suppressing my desire to upbraid my father when he kissed Alicent's hand and bid his goodbyes, I accompanied her to her room. I made conversation with her as she prepared for bed.

"Do you think," I began, "that you will ever be able to confide fully in me?"

She turned around and fixed me with one of her captivating smiles, but said nothing, and I began to fidget under her gaze.

"Oh, perhaps I should not have asked you that…"

She shook her head, "Oh Rhaenyra, you have every right to ask me such questions. There is nobody who I would rather confide in, nobody who I would rather share my secrets with."

She sighed wistfully: "I do not dare tell my story yet, even to you. The last time I did so brought death upon my confidant, and you are too precious for me to lose. The time is soon coming when I will reveal everything to you. You may think me cruel and selfish, but my love is a selfish creature. You must come with me, loving me, to death and what follows; or else hate me and still come with me, hating me through death and after."

My response was somewhat befuddled, "Alicent, I understand some of your meaning but just as much of it eludes me."

"Oh Nyra, for your sake I speak like a Septon discussing the higher mysteries of the Faith." She smiled indulgently at my irked expression, "Pray tell, have you ever been to a ball?"

"No I have not had the pleasure, would you care to enlighten me?"

"It was years ago…"

I laughed, "You are not so old, you can hardly have forgotten your first ball!"

"I remember, but it is like watching it through a veil of water," Alicent's voice now took on a dreamy quality, "what happened that night distorts my memories. I was lying in bed when I was attacked. My assailant wounded me here," she gestured to her breast, "and I have never since been the same."

"Were you near dying?"

She laughed, "I did die. The foolish Alicent of the past was no more. In her place rose the lady you have come to know over the past few months. Let us speak no more of such matters for tonight, I think it is about time for both of us to go to bed!"

She lay prettily upon the pillow, her hands tucked under her rich auburn locks. Her entrancing gaze followed me towards the door, and a shy smile illuminated her face. I thought I would very much like to stay with her, nestle into her warmth and spend the night in her embrace.

I uneasily bid her good night and shut the door, my heart racing and my emotions all aflutter. I thought something must be wrong with me to feel like this around Alicent. I resolved to ask Father in the morning, but for now I locked my door, worried by Alicent's talk of a night-time assailant. I checked my bedroom light, for I always slept with a light on, and settled into bed. My last thoughts before I fell asleep were of Alicent.

Locking my door provided no defense against dreams however. The inhabitants of dreams melt through stone and scoff at locksmiths, and the peculiar agony which began that night was most dream-like.

I cannot call my experience a nightmare, for I was quite conscious of being asleep in my bed. I fancied I saw my room, just as I had seen it last, but now shrouded in darkness.

Something was moving at the foot of the bed.

When I saw the soot black cat, I very much wished I could cry out, or move, or do anything, for it was stalking towards me. It must have been more than five feet long, slinking closer with feline grace, its eyes devouring me. The room darkened further, until all I could see were yellow eyes, glowing in the dark.

Suddenly I felt a stinging pain, as though two large needles had pierced my breast.

I woke with a cry, but I must have still been half asleep, for I was enveloped in the warmth of another girl. When I spun around, anxious to see who she was, there was nobody there. I caught sight of a dark figure at the foot of my bed, unmistakably a woman, but I blinked and she was at the door. It opened, and she departed, shutting it behind her. The whole time she had made not made a sound, not even to breathe.

My first thought had been that Alicent had played a prank on me, but I checked the door, and it was still shut tight, its lock still in place, just as I had left it. I was afraid to open it.

Instead, I sprang back into bed and buried myself in the covers, lying there like a corpse. At some point I must have fallen asleep, for when I opened my eyes it was morning.

So began my death.

Spoiler: A/N

This is going up a bit early, but I'm going to a wedding and I'm really excited to post this chapter! As always, any mistakes are mine (much of this chapter was typed on my phone) and I welcome any and all feedback.

 

[Lazer Raptor]

VI​

The next day, I could not bear to be alone for a moment. I dared not tell my father what had transpired. I feared he would laugh and wave off my fears, or worse, take them all too seriously and do something ill-advised. He took no note of my changed behavior, and proceeded throughout his day as usual.

My governess was not so easily fooled. Mrs. Marlow, having noticed how I lingered near her, asked me plainly what ailed me. I was in truth somewhat relieved, and spoke at length about the fright I had suffered last night. She did not seem to take me entirely seriously, and after a laugh, began telling her own tale:

"If we are speaking of unnatural occurrences, I think the walk behind Alicent's bedroom window is haunted! Martyn, one of the groundsmen, says that he has encountered a female figure walking down the lime tree avenue on two separate occasions. In each instance, he saw her out before dawn. It obviously was not me taking an early morning stroll, none of the staff will say it was them, and neither you nor the lady Alicent are prone to rising early. It is almost certainly nothing to fret about, but that fool Martyn is quite frightened!"

"You shouldn't tell Alicent," I interposed, "for she has a fear of burglars and invaders exceeding my own."

The young lady in question came down somewhat later than usual, a vision of beauty and poise. I wished to throw myself into her arms and tearfully recount my woes, but propriety held me back.

It surprised me then that she immediately pulled me aside and confessed to her own night time fright:

"I swear that last night I would have had a most dreadful experience if not for the charm you purchased from that detestable clubfoot. I had a dream of a black… thing… prowling around my bed. Before it drew any closer, I awoke, and beheld a dark figure by the chimney place. I reached beneath my pillow for the charm, and the moment my fingers touched it, the figure disappeared. In defiance of all logic and reason, I feel certain that if not for the charm something terrible would have befallen me."

Amazed, I recounted my experience, watching her face shift from recognition to a grave concern. Clasping my hands in hers and gazing into my eyes, she asked me if I had my charm with me.

"No," I answered sheepishly, "I had dropped it in one of the drawing room vases, but given your experience I will certainly be bringing it to bed tonight."

We had a splendid day together, and Alicent's radiant smile nearly put the fear out of my mind. It returned in full force when I went to bed, but I put my trust in Alicent and pinned the charm to my pillow. I fell asleep shortly thereafter, and slept even more deeply than usual, totally undisturbed.

I woke with a bit of melancholy and lassitude that seemed almost luxurious, reassured in my safety. I told Alicent this with some excitement and she was most pleased:

"I too had a marvelous sleep last night, for I pinned the charm to my nightdress and this time no apparitions came to frighten me. I have no inkling of how such things might work, but I am grateful nonetheless. I am tempted to attribute it all to a passing fancy, but I think it would be safest to continue to keep these charms close at night. Even if it is mere superstition, I wish for you to have every comfort and protection."

"But what of you?" I asked softly, "do you not care for yourself?"

"On the contrary Nyra," she replied warmly, "I am extremely selfish. It is my selfish desire to hoard you, to keep you with me forevermore."

I thought this a rather curious way of expressing her concern for me.

"Is it truly so difficult to admit that you are a kind and caring person, Ali?"

"If you knew everything about me I doubt you would call me kind," she spat with a self-hatred that worried me greatly, "for I am a greedy creature indeed."

"I refuse to believe you," I spoke with conviction, staring right into her deep brown eyes, "but let us speak no more of this, lest it burden our stroll."

As soon as we left the keep, I sought her hand and interlaced our fingers. If she would not accept my words, I would let my actions speak for me.

Over the next few days, I slept deeply and without dreams, but every morning I felt the same lassitude overtake me. I felt that I was slowly changing. That languid and comfortable feeling was creeping up on me, a melancholy I would not wish to disrupt. At times I thought I might be sinking into the eternal sleep of death, but it did not scare me. I felt as though gentle hands were lowering me into a comfortable darkness, as if a lover's embrace was lulling me to sleep.

Whatever was happening to me, I was content with it. I did not wish to tell my father, or summon a doctor.

Alicent was growing ever closer to me, and her embraces, her bursts of ardor, her shows of affection, grew more and more frequent, but so too did her confessions of selfishness, of guilt, of being a sinner.

My condition had made me much more sensitive to her affections. My skin felt electrified where she had touched me, I began to seek out her touch, to desire her closeness. Our touches lingered for longer, my blushes came more easily. I suspected that something was wrong with me, but as with my newfound languor, I held my tongue.

Without knowing it, I was reaching a pretty advanced stage of one of the strangest illnesses a mortal can suffer. There was a fascination and comfort in it that had soothed me throughout the earlier stages, and it had only increased, until it mingled with a novel sin, whose deepening corruption of my soul would, as you shall see, inexorably alter the course and content of my life.

The first change I became aware of was rather agreeable. Certain vague sensations began to visit me in my sleep. Sometimes it was a pleasant chill reminiscent of the feeling one gets from sinking into water on a warm day. Other times it was a comfortable heat, like sitting next to a fire on a freezing day. Then came the indeterminable dreams, of which I could remember little. Yet I always felt the exhausted relief of having just gone through a period of sharp danger and survived.

Sometimes I could recall fragments, a rememberance of a dark place, speaking to people I could not see, and of a voice, a woman's voice, low and solemn. It came as though from a great distance, slowly, and always producing an indescribable sensation of disgust, desire, and longing. Sometimes it was as if warm lips kissed me, longer and longer and more lovingly until they reached my throat, and there fixed themselves. My heart beat more rapidly, my breathing rose and fell rapidly, a sense of a building tension grew and grew until a paroxysm which left me limp and drifting into unconsciousness.

My nightime experiences now began to tell upon my appearance. I had grown more pale, shadows were growing under my eyes, and the languor I had long felt began to display itself more openly in my countenence.

My father began to ask me if I was ill, but having previously resolved not to mention it, my typical stubborness led me to obstinately insist I was quite well.

In a sense this was quite true, I had no pain, I could complain of no derangement, bodily discomfort, or disfigurement. It seemed as though I was afflicted entirely by a malady of my imagination or nerves, and despite my strange experiences, I kept them entirely to myself.

I considered whether whatever had afflicted several village girls might be to blame, but I had been paying close attention, and the symptoms did not mach. In those instances the afflicted had experienced a rapid onset of symptoms and either a relief or death (in the case of the huntsman's daughter) soon thereafter.

Alicent spoke of dreams and strange urges affecting her, but it seemed altogether less serious than my condition. Had I known what my condition was, I would have pled for aid and advice upon my knees, but my ignorance left me blind and deaf.

Spoiler: A/N

I'm so sorry this was so delayed. The first week of grad school and my new job hit me much harder than I expected. Now that I've gotten the juices flowing again I am going to try and update on Saturday.

 

[Lazer Raptor]

VII​

I will now tell you of a peculiar dream I had and the consequences that ensued.

One night, instead of hearing the voice I was accustomed to hear, a light illuminated Alicent of all people standing at the foot of my bed. She was covered in blood from head to toe, her white nightgown dyed red and her eyes empty of their usual spark.

I woke with a cry of alarm, possessed with the idea that Alicent had been murdered. I sprung from my bed and raced into the lobby, shouting for my governess to come quickly.

Mrs. Marlow quickly emerged from her room and learned the reason for my terror. I insisted on knocking on Alicent's door. Mrs. Marlow must have agreed to placate my irrational fear, but when our knocking went unanswered, she too began to panic.

We pounded on the door, yelling her name, but it was to no avail. Not a sound came from her room.

Mrs. Marlow and I at once went to fetch some servants, and returned with a pair of hastily awakened men. I rather imperiously ordered them to force the lock, and we stood with our lights in the doorway, looking into the room.

Alicent was not in her bed. We called her name and searched the room but found no trace of her. Everything was how I had left it when I bid her goodnight, yet Alicent was gone.

We stood there in silence for far too long before Mrs. Marlow and I regained our senses and sent the men away. We reasoned that Alicent must have heard the pounding at her door and hidden in fright, and once we had sent away the men we could recommence the search.

It was all for no purpose. We examined the windows, but they were secured. I implored Alicent to come out and to end our anxieties. It was all useless. I grew more and more agitated the longer we could not find her, and I fear I snapped at Mrs. Marlow several times before apologizing. I was eventually satisfied that she was not in her room, nor in the dressing room, the door of which was still locked on her side. I was utterly puzzled. Had Alicent discovered one of those secret passages which the old housekeeper said were known to exist in the Red Keep, although the tradition of their exact situation had been lost?

Unable to scour the manor's grounds in the dark, I spent a sleepless night pacing in my room, my mind conjuring ever more fearful visions of what might have happened. Daylight did nothing to ease my fears.

The whole household was roused that morning and set to work searching every part of the Red Keep and our estate. We scoured the grounds, checked every nook and cranny, and still we could not find Alicent. My father was quite beside himself, planning to drag the stream for her body, but I refused to give up hope. Near midday I made the trek up to Alicent's room. I had hoped to pick up one of her necklaces, if only so that I had something of hers with me, but instead I found my dearest companion standing right there!

I flung myself at her and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, pressing kisses to the top of her head. Tears flowed down my cheek and I confess I was most unintelligible, babbling all manner of nonsense. She let me hold her for some time while I calmed down.

"My sweet Rhaenyra, what has happened, what is wrong?"

"Oh Ali, where were you? We have been in agonies of worry and anxiety about you," I exclaimed "where have you been? When did you come back?"

"Last night was…. strange"

"Please, explain everything you can."

"I went to sleep in my bed last night with my door locked, as usual. My sleep was pleasantly dreamless, and insofar as I know uninterrupted, but I awoke on the sofa in the dressing room there. The door between rooms was open, and my room's door had been forced. I have no idea how this could have happened without me waking. It would have been accompanied by a great deal of noise and I am not known for being a deep sleeper."

At some point my father and Mrs. Marlow had entered the room, along with some servants. Alicent was swamped with questions, and seemed distinctly uncomfortable. I stepped in front of her to command the crowd to stop overwhelming her and ask questions one at a time. When I moved back, I felt her gently squeeze my hand, and my heart clenched in a not entirely uncomfortable way.

After hearing her story, my father shared his theory on what had happened:

"Why, Alicent, it is quite clear what has happened to you: you sleepwalked. You got up in your sleep, unlocked the door, not leaving the key, as usual, in the lock, but taking it out and locking it on the outside; you again took the key out, and carried it away with you to some one of the five-and-twenty rooms on this floor, or perhaps upstairs or downstairs. There are so many rooms and closets, so much heavy furniture, that it would require a week to search this keep thoroughly."

My reply was quick in coming, "How then do you explain her finding herself on the sofa in the dressing room, which we had searched so carefully?"

"She came there after you last searched it, still asleep," he countered, "and when she woke there you found her. There, as you see there is no threat of murder or burglars, nothing that needs to alarm anyone. I wish all mysteries were so easily solved!"

His explanation made sense, but something felt off about it. I looked at Alicent and saw that her face wore a polite mask, and I couldn't help but feel that she was not saying something. Yet, as my eyes traced her features, I thought quietly that nothing could be more beautiful than her, and I resolved not to mention anything to my father.

My father posted a servant outside Alicent's door, and it and the next night passed quietly. The next day, Maester Gerardys arrived, having been summoned without my knowledge by my father.

The Maester bid me to tell him as much as I could, and so I discussed my experiences and my symptoms. For some reason I could not bring myself to tell him about how I was feeling in regards to Alicent, but otherwise I spoke candidly. His kindly expression rapidly transformed into one of deep concern as I spoke, and by the end he was looking at me with some degree of undisguised horror.

Gerardys sent for my father, who arrived with a smile that quickly withered at the grave expression on the Maester's face. He led Maester Gerardys out of the room and engaged in a conversation I could not overhear, speaking quickly and with passion. I burned with curiosity and a bit of annoyance at being left out of the conversation about me, and started fidgeting, but Mrs. Marlow gave me a look which kept me still for the time being.

Finally, my father stuck his face into the room. It was pale, agitated, and filled with a concern that sent a chill down my spine. He bid me to come with him and led me before the Maester.

Gerardys looked me in the eyes and asked me a question, "You mentioned a sensation like that of two needles piercing the skin, somewhere on your breast, on the night when you experienced your first horrible dream. Is there still any soreness?"

"Not in the least."

"In that case, can you indicate where that sensation was?"

I pointed to the top of my right breast, and the Maester squirmed a little before he spoke again. Begging my forgiveness, he asked me if I would be willing to let him examine it. Trusting in my father to preserve my honor, I removed my morning dress and both men gasped.

By the Old Gods and New!," exclaimed my father, growing pale.

"You see it now with your own eyes," said the doctor, with a gloomy triumph.

"Well, what is it?" I snapped, eager to put my dress back on as quickly as possible and annoyed by their prior exclusion of me.

"Nothing too much, young lady," Gerardys tried to placate me, just two pairs of blue spots, the size of your fingertips, one on your right breast and one on the lower area of your neck."

"Am I in some danger?" I pressed him, "May I put my morning dress back on now?"

The Maester, sensing my fear and growing ire, replied quickly:

"Yes, you may put your dress back on, I assure you I have no designs on your modesty. I do not believe you to be in mortal danger. In fact, I see no reason why you should not begin to get better soon. These points are where the strange sensations you describe come from?"

"Yes, they are." I answered, already pulling my dress back on.

"Not only the tension, but both the warmth and the chill you mentioned?"

"Indeed."

"Well there we have it," he turned to my father, "May I call Mrs. Marlow in and give her some instructions?"

My father waved his hand dismissively and spoke casually, "I don't see why not."

Maester Gerardys called her in and said:

"I found this young woman far from well. It likely will not be of any great consequence, but I need you to make sure that Ms. Rhaenyra here is not alone for a single moment. This is the only specific care I need you to provide, but it is extremely important."

At this I could not help but scowl:

"Do you ever intend on telling me what my mysterious illness is? I am not a child, and it is frankly insulting that you persist in keeping a woman of nine and ten in the dark while denying her any shred of privacy!"

My father, shocked at my outburst, stuttered, while Maester Gerardys simply tsked and told me they had everything well in hand.

I was ushered away by Mrs. Marlow, still fuming. As I left, I heard my father asking if Gerardys might take a look at Alicent when she came down, and the Maester said he could come back tomorrow night.

Mrs. Marlow tried to make the best of things and cheer me up, but I was quite uncooperative. I resolved to return to my room and wait for Alicent to wake up before doing anything else. My governess followed me to my room and offered to play cards, but I refused to speak with her.

Instead, my mind wandered to my cherished companion. I thought of her beautiful figure, the strange thrill of holding her flush against me. I thought of her auburn hair, which stole my breath away in the sunlight. I dreamed of kissing her on those sweet lips, of her melting into me, my hands tracing her curves, going lower and lower.

Only the sound of Mrs. Marlow clearing her throat brought me out of my trance, causing me to flush in embarrassment at being caught. There was a pleasant heat in my core, and a faint throb between my legs.

She looked at me not unkindly, and spoke as though she had experience:

"Rhaenyra, while I typically hate to disturb a pleasant reverie, and I know you are of a certain age, please refrain from daydreaming about boys in my presence. I know that look well from my youth, and it leads to trouble!"

As she began a lecture on the dangers of boys, my mind was elsewhere. Did I… desire Alicent in that way? She certainly made my heart race and my mouth feel dry. I could think of no other person I would rather spend my time with, and she entranced me in a way my prior playmates had not. Finally, the thought of kissing her would not leave my mind no matter how much I tried to banish it.

By the end of Mrs. Marlow's lecture, I was quite certain that I was in love with Alicent, and had been for some time. I knew the Seven frowned upon such pairings, but I did not care. What were septon's words compared to her radiant smile?

More troubling was the thought that Alicent might find me disgusting. I did not know if she returned my affections after all. If not for this fear and Mrs. Marlow's presence, I would have professed my love as soon as I beheld my companion's breathtaking beauty.

I cursed my governess' presence, for I could tell Alicent was being less open and affectionate witezh me as a result. I yearned for her touch, and by evening had decided to confess my feelings after dinner.

Of course, neither of us could have anticipated the events of dinner that night.

We had all gathered together when father said he had to make an announcement. He stood up at the head of the table and with a smile tore my heart apart:

"Alicent, I have greatly enjoyed the time we have spent together so far. I thank the Seven everyday for bringing you into my life, with your knowledge and beauty. I would like to keep you in my life, for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?"

Spoiler: A/N

Alright! This one was difficult to write, but I got it done as promised!

As always, all mistakes are mine, and I welcome any critiques people have to offer.

 

[Lazer Raptor]

VIII​

The room was silent in the wake of Father's rather unwelcome announcement. Alicent was blatantly shocked and horrified, but managed to school her face back into a polite expression before my father looked at her. I was incandescent with rage, just about ready to strangle my father, and I made no such effort to conceal my feelings.

Before I could upbraid him, Alicent shot me a look with her eyes, silently begging me to let her handle this. She gave my father a polite smile that didn't meet her eyes, and the words that left her lips practically dripped with veiled condescension:\

"I thank you for your proposal, good ser, it is truly an honor to hear that you feel like that about me. At the same time, it would be highly improper to discuss these things without my mother present, and I would request that you refrain from such advances until she has returned. I believe it will only be a few more days now, and then you and her can have a discussion on the matter, as is right and proper."

My father stuttered, disarmed and embarrassed. Alicent gave him no mind, daintily rising from her seat and declaring she would like to head to her room now. I stood and took her arm, giving my father a furious glare, and escorted her back to her chambers.

Behind us, Mrs. Marlow was beginning to speak to my father in hushed but urgent tones, distracted for the moment. As we approached her door, Alicent rested her head on my shoulder, and I felt my cheeks warm at the closeness I had been denied all day.

She pulled me into her room and spun me around, her brown eyes shining with determination. With a steady voice she reassured me:

"I swear by the Old Gods and New that I will not marry your father. I dare not tell you my plan, for doing so would put you in the most extreme danger, but rest assured I shall not let him tear us asunder. Trust in me Nyra, and I will draw you near and never let you go."

My eyes had drifted down to Alicent's lips, and as she spoke I felt my caution and fear dissipating. I drew closer, her eyes widening, and pressed my lips softly to hers. After only a moment of hesitation, she returned the kiss with a passion that left me dizzy.

Finally we broke away for air, flushed and panting a bit. We stood in silence for a brief time, my mind pouring over every moment of the kiss, my heart begging me to kiss her again, before Alicent finally regained her wits:

"I confess I did not think my depraved affections could ever be returned," she said, fidgeting with her dress and looking away from my eyes, "and never have I been happier to have been wrong." Now she gave me a wan smile, "I would very much like to kiss you again, but Mrs. Marlow will surely arrive shortly. Let us speak of this on the morrow, for I will not allow even death to prevent me from loving you."

Heartened and with a light heart, I bid Alicent goodnight as Mrs. Marlow climbed the stairs, hugging her tightly before bounding away with a confused Mrs. Marlow in tow.

I slept soundly that night, my heart and mind at ease, without a hint of difficulty. When I awoke, I still was possessed by the luxurious languor which I had grown accustomed to, but my main sense was an overwhelming optimism. I was in love and she loved me back, and nothing in the world could stop us.

This optimism lasted through breakfast, at which point my father, who had thus far avoided engaging with me after the events of last night received the mail from a servant. When he opened the first missive, his expression twisted into one of absolute surprise, and having read it, he shouted at once for the majordomo.

Concerned by this behavior, I begged him to tell me what exactly was going on.

"Your Uncle Daemon is coming here today, and the letter informing me of this appears to have been delayed in the mail. He does not say why he is visiting, but we need to be ready to receive him at once!"

My thoughts came crashing to a halt, and worry began to worm its way into my heart, for I remembered the mad ramblings in my Uncle's last letter. My natural excitement to see him warred with the niggling doubt that this was a social call.

Less than a candlemark later, a cry went out and a dark carriage came riding up the road, pulled by four horses. Armed soldiers rode atop it, clad in the blue-gray uniform of the Imperial and Royal Army. It came to a stop in the courtyard, the door opened, and my uncle stepped out.

His officer's uniform was unbuttoned, giving him a rakish appearance, and the saber and pistol which adorned his hips gleamed in the morning sun. Behind him emerged another officer of a lower rank and several more soldiers, and the armed men atop the carriage dismounted. Including Daemon, there had been ten passengers who came with the carriage, and every single one of them was armed.

Spoiler: A/N:

This is a little bit of a mini-chapter, which I have decided to upload while I work on the next chapter, which I had originally planned to post together with this one.

As always, all mistakes are mine, and I welcome any critique, feedback, or comments people have!

 

[Lazer Raptor]

IX​

A stormy silence pervaded the drawing room. On one side sat my father, Mrs. Marlow, and I. My father was quite displeased, shooting Daemon an undisguised glare. Across from us sat Daemon, flanked by his subordinate, who had introduced himself as Lieutenant Farwynd of the Imperial and Royal Army. Neither seemed particularly phased by my father's glare, and my uncle almost seemed to lounge like a large cat, waiting for his prey to come into view.

If I did not know him well, I would have been under the impression that Daemon was totally unconcerned and relaxed, but I had seen him truly relaxed, and the gleam in his eyes and the slightly forced nature of his smile put paid to his projection of casual disinterest. My uncle had changed in the last ten months since I had seen him. He had always been a military man, a dashing officer whose men adored him for his verve and vigor, but now his silver hair had grown longer, flaunting regulations. His eyes were filled with a barely contained bloodlust that seemed more serious, more directed than I had ever seen. For the first time in my life, a shiver of fear went through me in his presence.

My father broke the silence with a stormy query, "Why have you come here Daemon, and what in the name of the Gods possessed you to bring a squad of soldiers to the Red Keep?"

My uncle smirked, "I must have forgotten to include that in my letter," his face grew serious, "I am here to hunt the beast that took my Laena from me, to track her to her lair and end her forever."

"What beast are you talking about?"

"A disgusting abomination of abhorrent lust, devilish deceit, and hellish power. I would tell you more with pleasure, but I doubt you would believe me."

"Why would I not believe my own brother?"

Daemon gave a haughty laugh, "You are too caught up in your own illusions and preconceptions of the world. If you had told me this story ten months ago I would have scoffed at you."

My father's look grew softer, "Brother, trust me, I am not as close-minded as you believe, and I doubt you would take something this seriously without good cause."

"You are right in supposing that I have not been led lightly into a belief in the marvelous—for what I have experienced is marvelous—and I have been forced by extraordinary evidence. I was made the dupe of a preternatural conspiracy."

My father's eyes widened in surprise, but he did not immediately disbelieve my uncle either.

Daemon took it as a sign to continue:

"I intend to travel to the ruins of House Hightower with these men under my command. I am particularly interested in the ruined Sept, where many of the family's remains are held. I mean to unearth them and by ancient and proven ritual end the existence of the foul creature which I believe resides there."

My father's interest was evident, and a quiet alarm began to sound in the back of my head.

"House Hightower has been extinct for a hundred years, and that old keep has long since been abandoned…"

Daemon nodded before continuing:

"You are quite correct, and in the last few months I have learned things about that which will astonish you, but I suppose I should start from the beginning. Viserys, you met my ward, Laena, the other month, no?"

"Oh the poor thing, when I last saw her she was so lovely, a pretty little thing indeed. I was quite saddened to learn of her passing."

"Indeed, no creature save for Rhaenrya here has ever struck me as more beautiful."

Once I had liked how he looked at me, how it made me feel worldly and mature, but now I felt nothing but discomfort at his piercing gaze. My face showed none of my inner conflict, but I could not contain the barely perceptible shiver that came over me.

Seemingly unaware of my struggles, my uncle pressed on with his ranting:

"She had become an object of very near interest to me, and repaid my care with an affection that cheered my home and made my life happy. The monster preyed upon her kind nature, ingratiating herself with my Laena with ill intent. It is a long tale, and -"

I spoke now, rather annoyed with his dancing around the subject, "then give us a shortened version," I shot my father a glare, "I am rather tired of being kept in the dark."

Daemon seemed to find this humorous, for he chuckled before replying to me:

"As you wish, I will start at the beginning, with a masquerade ball and an introduction that seemed quite innocuous at the time."

He sighed:

"Laena was looking forward to visiting with Rhaneyra, to making the acquaintance of my dearest niece, but in the meantime I had an invitation to one of my good friend Lord Footly's parties, held at his estate some six leagues to the south of here. That unfortunate night was one of his masquerade balls, and his Lordly hospitality was quite evident. The trees were hung with colored lamps, the grounds open to the guests, music was provided by musicians and singers sourced at great cost from all of Westeros, and the fireworks display made me wonder if I was back in the Freehold instead of the Reach! As you wandered through these fantastically illuminated grounds, the moon-lighted manor throwing a rosy light from its long rows of windows, you would suddenly hear these ravishing voices stealing from the silence of some grove, or rising from boats upon the lake.

For once I was perhaps the least distinguished personage in attendance! Laena looked lovely, wearing no mask, and her excitement and delight added an unspeakable charm to her features, always lovely. I spotted a young lady, dressed beautifully but wearing a mask, who seemed to be observing my ward with great interest. She was hard to keep track of, but at her side was a dashing lady in oddly masculine clothes,also wearing a mask, who seemed to be her chaperone."

His last sentence made my blood run cold, for I had only ever met one lady who dressed in men's clothes. I thought to myself that surely it had to be a coincidence, reassured myself with the idea that they were unrelated. In the meantime, my Uncle had kept talking, completely oblivious to my internal battle.

"We were now in one of the manor's salons. Laena had been dancing, and was resting a little in one of the chairs near the door; I was standing nearby. The two ladies I have mentioned approached and the younger took the chair next to my ward; while her companion stood beside me.

This strange woman turned to me, and addressed me like an old friend, calling me by name. With rakish charm she referred to various incidents where she had encountered me, recalling most clearly events I had almost forgotten about. I tried to extract from her exactly who she was, and how she could know so much about me, but she took a perverse delight in foiling me, skillfully parrying my queries and taking great humor in my conjectures.

In the meantime, the young lady, whose mother referred to her as Tencila, had with the same effortless charm engaged my Laena in conversation. She was very witty and lively when she pleased, and after a time they had grown very good friends, and the young stranger lowered her mask, displaying a remarkably beautiful face. I had never seen it before, nor had my dear child. But though it was new to us, the features were so engaging, as well as lovely, that it was impossible not to feel the attraction powerfully. My poor girl did so. I never saw anyone more taken with another at first sight.

Tencila's mother took her leave to speak with a man in black, while I continued to search my memories for who exactly she could be, and came up short. When she returned, she spun a tale of how she would be undertaking an important task she was loath to subject her daughter to. She idly wondered where she could foster her daughter for three weeks. Moments later, Laena approached me to ask if she could spend more time with Tencila, who had altogether charmed her. Taken in by the artifice before me, I foolishly agreed to host Tencila for three weeks, and in so doing sealed my ward's fate."

By now I was quite sure the woman he described was none other than Talya, Alicent's mother, and my mind was whirling at the implications. Did Daemon know about Alicent and our encounter with Talya? Did my father tell him anything? Who, or what, was Alicent?

My uncle continued, his voice full of vitriol:

"Having secured my agreement, the masked woman solemnly instructed Tencila to be good and to wait for her return. Tencila kissed her hand, and then the masked woman climbed into a waiting carriage and disappeared into the night."

He paused, as if contemplating something for a moment, and when he resumed speaking his voice was thoughtful:

"I have no doubt that this mysterious woman, possessing uncanny knowledge of my life, was not the mother of the beast she so skillfully inserted into my household. For one, she was far too young."

I was starting to put the pieces together, and I did not like the picture that was forming.

"As for Tencila, all seemed well, and I was pleased to have acquired a companion for my Laena. It was when we had returned home that I began to notice certain… oddities. Tencila had an odd languor to her, which I attributed at first to a childhood illness, and I spotted her several times in the first faint grey of the morning, walking through the trees, looking like a person in a trance. This convinced me that she walked in her sleep. Yet when I checked her room, the door remained locked on the inside, something she had insisted on due to a persistent fear of intruders. I could not for the life of me determine how she could have left the house without unbarring either the door or a window.

This would be perplexing enough, but Laena began to complain of strange nightmares and a feeling of languor and exhaustion. She spoke of dreams where a strange beast entered her room, of the feeling of two needles piercing her breast as she slept, of comfortable chills or bodily warmth she felt in her sleep."

When he described this, my mind was made up. Laena's experience did not exactly parallel mine, but it was too much for this to be a coincidence. My eyes widened as the final piece clicked into place, and I felt my heart shatter with a horrid mix of fear, anger, and confusion.

The harsh sting of betrayal rent my chest asunder, for who else could be responsible than Alicent? Alicent, the woman who I loved freely and with all my heart. Alicent, whose strange behaviors my uncle was now detailing to the letter. Alicent, who had come into my life in much the same way as Tencila had come into Laena's life. Alicent, whose name was Tencila spelled backwards.

As I reeled, a clamor came from the courtyard. A horse had just arrived, and its rider requested that he be taken to Daemon Targaryen immediately. When the man entered the room, my first thought was that the seven pointed star hung around his neck probably did not need to be complemented by more symbols of The Faith sewn into his cloak and emblazoned on his breast. His features were faintly Dornish, and perhaps in another context I would have found him handsome. Instead, all I felt was a vague unease as the dark-haired man silently took a seat.

"Ah, Ser Criston," my uncle exclaimed, "how kind of you to join us! I was just getting to the part of this conversation where I explained exactly what we are facing."

His casual demeanor did not fool me, for in his voice was the faintest stirrings of nervousness, or perhaps even fear:

"Laena's condition grew worse and worse, but Tencila grew ever closer to her. I had called for a maester, but he could not do anything and recommended I call upon another Maester. I already knew Maester Gerardys from the campaigns in the Stepstones, and so it was to this trusted face I turned. He was extremely alarmed at Laena's condition, and confessed that he suspected what was behind it was beyond his ability to treat. I grew rather wroth at this and demanded he explain, and what he told me would have been laughable under any other circumstances."

My father, who had been listening attentively, chose this moment to interject:

"He told you that Laena had been suffering from the assault of a most foul creature, a vampire, did he not? Maester Gerardys was here just yesterday, and diagnosed Rhaenyra of the same affliction, which we have been taking most seriously, I have had Mrs. Marlow on constant watch. He's supposed to return later today for Alicent, who is also suffering from some of the same symptoms."

Red hot fury surged through my veins. My father had known exactly what was going on, exactly what was ailing me, and had kept it from me, despite my life being the one in danger. If he already suspected a vampire, why had he very deliberately not informed me so I could take precautions?

My uncle's response was somehow even more dramatic, for his eyes widened, and he scrambled to his feet, his gaze fixed on the stairs.

I craned my head to determine what he was looking at, and my heart ached at what I saw. Alicent stood there, a vision of beauty and grace, stopped on the stairs, frozen as if mid step. I did not know whether I wanted to yell at her to run, to embrace her, or to slap her.

There was a moment of silence, and then with a roar of anger Daemon drew his pistol and opened fire.

The sound of a gunshot ripped through the room, causing me to instinctually clamp my hands over my ears, and Alicent moved.

Her languor was gone, replaced by a grace which entranced and frightened me in equal measure. It almost looked as though she simply vanished and reappeared halfway up the steps.

The acrid stench of gunsmoke filled the air as my uncle kept firing. Alicent danced through the gunfire with almost contemptuous ease, not a single bullet finding its mark.

After six shots, Daemon was out of ammunition. Smoke hung thick in the air, Lieutenant Farwynd was urging his men into the dressing room, my uncle looked like he was trying to kill Alicent with his eyes, and Ser Criston was advancing with his sword drawn.

Alicent gave me one last look, and then in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

Spoiler: A/N

Apologies this took so long to post, I was agonizing over it for a while, but I think I'm just going to post this and solicit feedback on it as is.

As always, all mistakes are mine and I welcome any comments people have.

 

[Lazer Raptor]

X​

As the soldiers fanned out to search the keep, bayonets affixed and faces hard, Daemon whirled on my father and began laying into him for not saying something. My father in turn became irate and began defending his actions, the two bickering as only brothers can. Forgotten in the midst of all this commotion, I was engaged in a pronounced internal struggle.

Alicent was a vampire , an undead creature I had thought nothing more than a legend, and she had been feeding off of me. My mind was racing, I needed time to think, time to integrate this into my world view, and time to examine my prior interactions with Alicent in a new light. In a perverse way, it was like realizing I was in love with her.

To buy time, and to extract a measure of petty revenge on Father, I casually inserted myself into their argument and asked if Father still planned to marry Alicent. The ensuing explosion gave me plenty of time to come to a decision.

Daemon had thus far presented Alicent as a duplicitous monster, but such a characterization did not sit well with me. Her reaction to the village girl's funeral, her strange statements about her love for me, and her insistence on how greedy she was, all of these seemed completely incongruent with the idea of her as an amoral predator. Alicent had practically told me exactly what she was doing and that she felt guilty for it, seven hells, she had told me she died . If my night time struggles were her doing, then she only began to feed off of me after the night after she told me, crying, that I would die for her. I had thought Alicent to be speaking in metaphors at the time, but instead it seemed she was being horribly frank with me.

Oh how my heart ached for her! Even knowing what I did, I loved her still. I was a helpless prey animal hypnotized by the beauty of her predator, and I did not want to lose her.

I now understood many of the mysteries of the past few months, yet I was still consumed by unanswered questions. Why would Alicent feed upon a woman she clearly cared for, why did she not solely sustain herself through young women whose names she did not know? What was her plan? What exactly had happened to Laena? Had Alicent killed her? Had some other ailment befallen her?

There was only one person who could answer all of these questions, and it was the one person whose gaze had promised a reunion in our future: Alicent.

My mind was made up, I would speak with her, we would settle this with words like civilized folk, and I would either slap her or hug her depending on what she told me.

Daemon had other ideas.

I had hardly come to a decision when he finished verbally eviscerating my thoroughly chastened father, and remembered that Alicent was still out there. Scowling, he motioned Ser Criston and Lieutenant Farwynd closer and began giving orders:

"Due to my brother's… error, it seems we are going to have to face the beast in its lair, and she knows we will be coming for her. We must expect resistance, and as such it seems inadvisable to split our forces as I originally planned. Rhaenyra is her prize, which means that we cannot leave her alone, lest the vampire circle back, and no measly servant can be relied upon to defend her should the vampire come for her. Thus, there is only one clear course of action: to travel to the ruins of House Hightower with Rhaenyra and Viserys in tow, and once there, end this once and for all. Viserys, you, Criston, Rhaenyra, and I shall take your coach, the Lieutenant and his men will take mine. Now move, for there is not a moment to waste!"

I was stunned. Surely my father would object to this madness, and I would have the chance to talk to Alicent, get her side of the story.

Instead, he gently shooed me towards the courtyard, as Daemon gave orders like he owned the Red Keep. My protestations fell on deaf ears, and when we had stepped outside he turned to me and spoke in a solemn voice:

"Rhaenyra, it is clear to me now that I have been a poor father. I have been too absent from your life, have not paid you and your life enough attention, and have granted too many indulgences. Today that ends. Once this whole Alicent business is behind us, we can start over. I'll start looking more seriously for suitors, start talking more with my daughter. Maybe we can go visit Oldtown or Highgarden for a while, see the Citadel like you used to always dream of."

To hear my father say something like this had long been my dream, but right now it felt more like a nightmare.

"But Father," I exclaimed, "you cannot seriously believe that this is a good idea! I hardly think dragging me into a gunfight will keep me safe!"

"I trust Daemon," came his rapid reply, "my brother is brash sure, but he is right, if we do not strike now any hope of justice for poor Laena will be lost, and that woman will hang over you like a pallor for the rest of your days. We cannot rest until she is buried."

At this, I fell silent. I felt a pit in my stomach. My father was serious about this, and once he made up his mind it was ludicrously hard to change it. The coach arrived before I could muster a new argument, and I climbed into it with the demeanor of a man being led to the gallows.

Once inside my father sat down next to me, patting me once more as it to reassure me. He did not know it was not my life I feared for. We sat there for some time, the silence stretching uncomfortably as I struggled to find something, anything to say. When my uncle and Ser Criston joined us it was almost a relief.

As the carriage started into motion, my father leaned forward, his face a mask of determination, and began interrogating Daemon and Ser Criston:

"I need to know what we are facing brother. What do you know of the vampire? Who exactly is she? What are her capabilities? How do you plan to kill her?"

Here was a side to my father I had never seen before, that of a military officer seeking information on his foe. Daemon smirked, seemingly pleased to see my father showing some backbone again. Ser Criston, in comparison, straightened to attention, and began to answer my father's questions:

"The vampire we hunt is the last member of the once proud Hightower family. We suspect her to be Lecinta Hightower in truth, and indeed she was once human, like all vampires. Her prior character before becoming a vampire is immaterial, for a vampire can only come into existence in one of two ways. Someone who takes their own life, committing the sin of suicide, may become a vampire after death, no matter how virtous they were in life. Similarly, the victims of vampires sometimes rise as vampires themselves, although I confess no understanding of the process."

It took all my strength to not visibly react, for Criston had given me the key to understanding many of Alicent's most cryptic statements, and revealed why she would prey on someone she genuinely loved. She meant to turn me into a vampire like her.

Heedless of my revelation, Criston continued his explanation:

"Regardless of how Lecinta became a vampire, and no matter what happened to the rest of the Hightower family, the local village soon began to suffer from vampire attacks. It started off slowly, but her victims rose as vampires as well, and soon the village was being overwhelmed. My ancestor was contracted to help the villagers, and upon arrival, he systematically exterminated them, staking and beheading the vampires while they lay in their graves in accordance with the ancient rites.

What he did not reveal to the villagers was that he did not end the existence of Lecinta Hightower. It seems to me they must have been lovers in life, for he could not do what needed to be done. Instead of killing the vampire, he destroyed her traces and banished her from the village. He eventually realized the error of his ways, the folly he had committed, and he confessed to it on his deathbed, which is how I know of Lecinta. It is now our task to do what he could not do and end this nightmare.

Now we turn to our foe's capabilities. As you have seen, the vampire is preternaturally fast when she is awake, and she is almost as strong. She has been seen in the form of a giant black cat, and she may have other abilities we are yet unaware of."

Ser Criston paused for a moment, adjusting the seven pointed star around his neck before continuing:

"Luckily, vampires also have weaknesses. A vampire is totally vulnerable while sleeping, and our original plan relied on this, but we do not have the time to wait for her to go to sleep, and there is no telling what she might be planning in the meantime. Vampires are weaker in the daylight, shun the holy symbols of the Seven, and are vulnerable to flame and Valyrian steel."

At this, Daemon patted the ancestral blade of my family, which rested on his hip. "Good thing we have the real deal right here" he japed cheerfully, "unlike the new 'Valyrian' steel coming out of the freehold, Dark Sister was forged when the dragons still lived."

My father chuckled, but Ser Criston did not find it so funny, crossing his arms in a somewhat petulant fashion. I politely chose not to tell him that insofar as I could tell Alicent was perfectly comfortable with symbols of the Faith, and that his elaborate garb would do him no good.

His sulking gave me the time to process everything I had learned today about Alicent, which could be summarized as follows:

• Alicent was a vampire
• Alicent's name might not actually be Alicent (a pity, I loved her name)
• Alicent had been feeding off of me
• Alicent was almost one hundred years old, and a Hightower to boot.
• Alicent might have been trying to turn me into a vampire.
• Alicent had told me more or less openly what her intent was.
• Alicent had previously fed off Laena in a similar way.

The last detail made me frown, for it made little sense for a hundred year old vampire to not know how to turn someone into a vampire, and it was clear from Daemon's description that Alicent and Laena got along splendidly. Did Daemon kill Laena when she rose from the grave? Did he take precautions against her doing so? Only one person knew the answers, and so I steeled myself.

"Uncle" I spoke quietly, "how exactly did Laena die? You never got to that part in your story…"

The jovial attitude slid off his face almost instantly, and he looked me in the eye with violet eyes that burned with cold fury. I shivered, and part of my mind was screaming at me to run, that my uncle was dangerous , that he might hurt me. What he said next, in a low, all too serious tone, was more horrible than I had possibly anticipated:

"I killed her. I stabbed Laena through the heart and cut her head off. It was by my hands that my beloved ward died, and it was a mercy.

I knew not how to handle a vampire, or if I even believed Gerardys. I thus resolved to wait in ambush for the vampire when Laena went to bed, hiding carefully around a corner without Laena's knowledge, Dark Sister in hand. Laena did not go to sleep for some time, reading a book about Braavos by candlelight.

Sometime past midnight, I could not say, Laena was still awake. I was beginning to think she was simply insomniac and the Maesters had been wrong, but then a figure appeared from the shadows. I was shocked to see Tencila, my guest, Laena's friend. Laena smiled at her, and Tencila drew closer to her. In the moonlight, I saw Tencila bare her unnatural fangs and plunge them into poor Laena's neck.

I could wait no longer, emerging from ambush, I attempted to run the vampire through, only for her to dance out of reach of Dark Sister and vanish from the room as quickly as she had entered it. I shouted for the servants to find Tencila and bring her to me, so that I might end her.

I did not expect Laena to throw a book at me.

She was distraught. Her eyes glistened with tears and she cursed me, told me that she wanted nothing to do with me, that Tencila had opened her eyes to my evil, that they would go to Essos together as friends, and that Tencila would return to her.

As I searched her eyes, I found nothing of my Laena, only Tencila. The vampire had not only preyed upon my ward, she had warped Laena's mind, twisted it until no love remained for anyone except her ."

Anger had crept into his voice as he spoke, a cold and ruthless anger that unnerved me beyond measure. I had seen my uncle angry before, but I had never witnessed him speak like this. Perhaps sensing my discomfort, his face softened, and although he spoke gently, his eyes showed no kindness whatsoever:

"You have nothing to worry about Rhaenyra, she doesn't appear to have her hooks so deep in you. From what Viserys has told me you were good friends, but you will recover in time. I will not let what happened to Laena happen again, this I swear."

Leaning back, he placed his hand back on the hilt of Dark Sister and closed his eyes. Looking around, my father was reaching out for him as if to comfort him for his loss, and Ser Criston appeared indifferent. They did not care that Daemon had murdered his own ward, beheaded kind and gentle Laena.

We did not have much time left before we reached the Hightower ruins. I was not normally a pious woman, but it was clear I could not count on any mortal allies, and so in the midst of this nightmare I turned to prayer.

I prayed to the Stranger, for the sake of Laena's soul, that she might enjoy the blessings of the Seven Heavens. I prayed to the Crone, to grant me the wisdom and foresight to discern what needed to be done. I prayed to the Warrior, to grant me the strength and courage to be true to myself. I prayed to the Father to grant Laena justice.

Finally, I prayed to the Maiden and the Mother. I prayed for Alicent.

Spoiler: A/N

My sincere apologies this was not posted on Saturday, I had kind of a hellish weekend, and I probably should be working on my many grad school assignments instead of writing this, but c'est la vie.

As always, all mistakes are mine, and I greatly appreciate any comments or feedback people have!

 

[camloste]

this continues to be really good, and i can tell we are building to something spectacular

 

[Lazer Raptor]

XI​

We were almost at the ruins, and a tense silence had settled over the coach. Daemon was checking his revolver, Criston had decided to make a last minute prayer to the Warrior, and my father had perversely almost seemed to grow more comfortable the closer we came to danger.

As we approached, a crumbling tower rose from the woods, a pale imitation of the Hightower of Oldtown. It was attached to the neglected remains of a modest keep and small sept, and I wondered if Alicent was indeed watching us right now.

Our carriage pulled into the drive, and Daemon flung the door open and leapt out, searching for danger. Criston followed him, while my father was content to wait for Daemon's larger coach. The sound of horses echoed through the woods, and I could see Daemon's black coach come into view, armed soldiers riding atop it.

It was then I realized something: the sound was coming from multiple directions .

At the other end of the drive, horsemen came into view, followed by a pair of carriages. When the newcomers caught sight of Daemon's troops, both sides froze for a moment, the frenzy of activity coming to a crashing halt.

A shot rang out, and all of Seven Hells broke loose.

My father grabbed me and pulled me behind the carriage, moving faster than I'd ever seen him move. He gestured for me to keep my head down, but I couldn't help but glance at what was going on around us.

Daemon ran for the keep, shouting for Criston, "Blood", and "Cheese" to follow him. Criston followed him, ducking and weaving as bullets began to whiz through the air, accompanied by two soldiers who had ridden on top of our carriage. Lieutenant Farwynd's men spread out into a skirmish line, and at a command, began to fire and advance.

One of the horsemen dropped like a puppet with its strings cut as his compatriot fled with all haste. Behind them, a hardy and rough group of armed men had disembarked their carriage. Among them was a well dressed figure in a suit, toting some manner of rifle, and I could hear a feminine voice bellowing an order as the ragtag group scrambled for cover. I concluded immediately that these were Alicent's men, and that Talya had come to retrieve her wayward "daughter", only to encounter an unexpected hindrance.

A sharp crack near my ear had me pulling my head back in a panic. Farwynd was making his way towards us waving his revolver, his men providing cover fire. He was seconds from reaching when his head erupted in a shower of gore, and I heard my father curse.

I could barely breathe, my unseeing eyes fixed on Farwynd's corpse. I thought rather faintly that before today I had never heard a gunshot, let alone found myself in the middle of a gunfight with a cooling corpse in front of me.

I blinked, and realized my father was calling my name. He put a hand on my shoulder, and told me to under no circumstances get out from behind the carriage. A distinctive crack, another soldier dropped, and then Father was running to the Lieutenant's body. Grabbing Farwynd's sword and revolver, Father proceeded to sprint to cover, somehow surviving without a scratch.

A scream from inside the keep tore my attention away from the gunfight. The wood near my arm splintered, and I made up my mind. Alicent was in the keep, trapped in there with Daemon and Criston. She needed my help, and I refused to leave her alone. I stared at the stretch between the keep's entrance and the coach, feeling my muscles beginning to tense. I reassured myself that my father had made it through, surely I could do so as well.

I burst out of my hiding spot, a shot kicking up dust at my heels. As I passed the body of the poor coachman, I heard voices yelling, and picked up my pace as a bullet whizzed over my head. I burst into the keep itself, a wayward round embedding itself in the doorframe, and kept moving. It felt as though the whole ordeal had taken a candlemark, even if I knew intellectually that it had been an extremely short span of time.

Slowing down, I realized I didn't really have a plan, I had acted on instinct, emotion, and adrenaline. As I jogged towards the sounds of fighting, I cursed my damnable skirts. Turning a corner, I was greeted by the sight of a body dressed in Imperial blue, lying limply against the wall, which had a trail of blood. The man's rather ugly face was twisted in surprise, and it was not hard to determine what had happened to him.

His rifle was nowhere to be seen, and after stopping to mumble a quick prayer, I continued towards the sept, the noises intensifying. When I arrived at the door to the sept I could not help but freeze at the tableau before me.

The sept must have once been beautiful, but now its beauty held a certain sadness. Sunlight poured in through cracked stained glass and small holes in the ceiling. The statues of the Seven were worn, eroded, such that it was difficult to tell the Stranger apart from the Maiden. The whole scene had an unnatural quality, as if this sacred place was

Daemon was bereft of his pistol, his face contorted into a mask of rage as Dark Sister danced in his hands. Criston was fighting cautiously, his cloak discarded, and his face set into an expression of grim determination. Both carefully maintained a specific distance from Alicent, sweating, lunging, and retreating with curses from Daemon and frustrated grunts from Criston. At some point the other soldier had been impaled with his own rifle, and evidently had been the one screaming. Amidst it all, Alicent danced.

Her beautiful green dress was torn and her skirts were ragged. Blood seeped slowly from a cut on her arm. Her hair splayed messily around her shoulders, and those soft brown eyes I so adored gleamed with desperate fury. Her movements were supernaturally quick, predatory even, weaving between the men's' slashes and thrusts as if performing a show. I felt my breath catch as Alicent stepped just out of reach of Dark Sister, and worry mixed with awe in my chest. Even like this, Alicent was radiant .

Occasionally, taking advantage of some unseen opening, she made an attempt to close for the kill, only to be driven back by the sword of the unengaged man. I knew Daemon was one of the finest duelists in Westeros, and Ser Criston almost matched him in skill. The two covered each other, consistently pressing Alicent and allowing her no room to breathe.

I stood there for what felt like an age, before my mind caught up to what I was seeing, and my eyes darted around the room for something, anything I could use. Daemon's revolver was lying on the ground, not far from me, and I knew what I had to do.

The trio were so absorbed in their lethal dance my entrance into the room went unnoticed. I scooped up the revolver and checked the cylinder. Three shots were left. I had to pick my targets carefully.

Alicent was slowing down, her cut affecting her more than I would have assumed. She barely avoided Ser Criston taking her head off, and had to scramble backwards to dodge Daemon's lunge. Daemon himself was sweating, his right arm not moving quite as it should, but he knew if he stopped his assault he would perish. Only Criston seemed mostly unscathed.

My mind was made up.

Cocking the hammer, I positioned the pistol in my right hand and tried to copy my uncle's shooting stance. Peering down the sights, I lined up my target carefully, knowing I would only have one shot at this. My hands were steady, thank the Warrior, and there was no more time to lose.

I squeezed the trigger, the gun jumped in my hand, and a tremendous bang rang out in the abandoned sept, the flash and smoke briefly obscuring my vision. A moment later, I beheld the result of my intervention.

Red stained my uncle's blue-grey uniform, the round having hit him right in the small of his back, and Dark Sister clattered to the floor as he dropped. Ser Criston and Alicent wheeled towards me, their eyes widening in unconcealed shock. Alicent recovered first. She snatched Daemon's sword from the ground with cat-like grace and took a wild slash at Ser Criston. Even caught off-guard, Criston's form was perfect, and he had already raised his blade to parry. The finest in the Freehold's modern metallurgy met its ancient ancestor.

In an ordinary contest the difference between the two blades would not have mattered, but Alicent's slash had superhuman strength behind it, and as the old adage goes, Valyrian Steel cuts true. Criston's sword shattered under a vampire's fury, and the momentum almost wrenched the hilt out of his arm, forcing it far out of position. Alicent's form was rudimentary, but it hardly mattered, and a second slash cut nearly cut Criston in half, red viscera and blood spilling forth as the life left his eyes.

The vampire turned, and oh how I feared and desired her in equal measure. Even covered in blood, her dress in tatters, her hair unkempt, and her eyes wild, Alicent was comely beyond measure. Heat pooled in my belly as I looked into those dark eyes, and I felt her desire like it was a physical force. It took great strength of will for her to tear her eyes away and look at Daemon, still lying on the floor. I could not tell if he was dead or dying, but it hardly mattered. Alicent spoke then, her voice as clear and as lovely as ever:

"I have lived over a hundred years, and I do not think I could live a hundred years more without a companion by my side. Despite my sinful nature, I loved Laena as a friend, whereas you craved her as a possession. I confided in her, and it was to my great surprise that she expressed interest in following me into unlife. Together, we devised a plan by which she would join me in Essos, and finally be free of you. At first she felt guilty about leaving you behind, but the more she interacted with other people, the more she became aware of exactly how you treated her. I should never have fled, never have left Laena alone with you. For all that I hated you, I never thought you would hurt her.

When by the grace of the Gods I was introduced to Rhaenyra, I resolved to keep my secrets, to not risk her life or my unlife. I had intended only to give Talya the time to make preparations. I did not expect her light to so effortlessly draw me in, for my desires to run amok, for her to invade my thoughts so powerfully. I was obsessed. I desired her, coveted her, and irrespective of her wishes I resolved to have her. You lusted after Rhaenyra, manipulated her, and preyed upon her. I did the same. I do not know if I was always like this, if I have always contained this sinful desire, or if it is something brought on by my curse, but I have corrupted her, sullied her light with my sin. My heart, so happy but a day ago, is filled with guilt. It is by her hand that you fell, and if she so chooses, I will allow her to end me."

Alicent paused, her face soft and mournful. "I'm sorry Laena." she spoke softly, "I hope you are happy, wherever you are."

A moment later, Daemon's head was separated from his body.

Spoiler: A/N:

This chapter is an important one, we're almost to the end now. Next chapter *should* be the last chapter, unless people want me to make an appendix post with worldbuilding details that I didn't think were necessary to include in the main text.

I really should not have written this instead of doing schoolwork lol.

As always, all mistakes are mine, and I welcome any and all feedback!

 

[Lazer Raptor]

XII​

I shot my uncle in the back with his own pistol, fully intent on ending his life, and then allowed my lady love to decapitate him with his own sword. His lifeblood stained her tattered dress, dyeing light-blue fabric dark red.

I had just watched the head of a family member who I had admired since childhood roll across the floor, and I felt nothing but relief.

I was a kinslayer.

I was a kinslayer…. And I truly did not care one whit.

Alicent averted her eyes from me, shame flitting over her pretty face. She thought I would reject her, that I would be upset, that I would be angry with her. It was not an entirely unreasonable thought, for by the norms of Westeros she had enticed me into committing an unspeakable sin. Yet while my actions were in contravention of the laws of my homeland, I harbored no regrets.

I cast aside my uncle's revolver. I felt the weight of the pistol leave my hand and winced at the sharp sound as it clattered across the stone floor. My hand unclenched, feeling strangely light. I strode towards Alicent with purpose, my eyes locked on her form. Stepping over something, perhaps a body, perhaps a piece of stone, I cupped Alicent's chin with my hand. Her skin was soft and warm to the touch. I wondered faintly if vampires produced sweat, before tilting her face towards mine. When I met those magnificent brown eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, I felt the world fall away. I glanced towards her lips, smeared with blood, and the last thread of my self control broke.

It was not the gentle embrace of my last kiss with Alicent. I kissed Alicent hungrily, with the passion of a woman who had thought her lover lost forever only an hour prior. I could taste the metallic tang of blood on her lips. I could smell the acrid stench of gunpowder mixing with her sweet scent.

I wanted her.

I had watched her kill, witnessed her strength and speed, and heard how she felt about me. I had seen the monster unmasked and it only made me want her more fervently.

Already the world had condensed into nothing but her and I. There was a sound of something falling to the ground as one of her hands found the back of my head. It was better than anything I had yet experienced in my life, but I could feel that Alicent was still hesitating, still trying to be gentle with me. She was still ashamed of what she wanted. This would not do.

My hands crept lower, running along her tattered dress, tracing the curve of her figure, dipping below her waist… and squeezed.

Alicent immediately pulled herself flush with my body, our breasts squishing together in a manner that sent my pulse thrumming between my legs. I could not help but emit a wanton moan at the entirely pleasurable sensation of her tongue entering my mouth. One of her legs found its way between my own, the friction sending waves of pleasure through my nerves.

If before Alicent had been hesitant, gentle, now it felt as though she was playing me like an instrument, her touches and kisses making me burn with lust and desire. She pulled obscene sounds from me with every nip of her teeth against my lips, and I whimpered with the need to divest myself of my dress and give her access to my skin directly.

I swear by the Seven, who rule the Seven Heavens and the Seven Hells, who created the world we inhabit and every creature that dwells within it, I loved her at that moment more than I loved breathing. If she had wanted to end my life I would have given it to her with a smile.

My thoughts were clouded with her, filled with nothing but Alicent, Alicent, Alicent.

When she suddenly pulled away, I mourned the loss of her warmth and tried to reach for her, only to meet open air.

Before fear could settle over my heart, I saw her face, and confusion swept over me. Alicent looked guilty, apologetic even, as if I were not the one to initiate our kiss, as if I had not been the one to push things further. She opened her lips, and nonsense spilled out:

"I beg your forgiveness, for I am a selfish, deceitful creature. I have taken advantage of your kindness to prey upon you, tainting the fairest maiden I have ever beheld with my sin. I know you feel violated, that you loathe my reprehensible acts, and that you resent how I have lied to you by omission and by choice. You have every right to hate me. I cannot undo the evil I have wrought, but I wish to return to my grave having told you the truth."

I was more than a little bewildered by her words, but before I could blink Alicent was pulling the scabbard from Daemon's corpse and offering me Dark Sister hilt-first. I realized with some surprise that she was crying, any semblance of deceit swept away by her tears. She could hardly have more effectively garnered my sympathy had she tried. Any hope of getting a word in edgewise was stymied by her choked sobs:

"I should have told you from the start who and what I was, but I was afraid. At first I feared that you would reject me, and as I came to know you more intimately I grew fearful that the knowledge would endanger you. I should have known that no amount of ignorance would protect you from Daemon. I shall tell you now.

I am Alicent Hightower, the last of the House of Hightower, and I have walked this earth for more than a century. I am a vampire, an undead parasite that subsists on the blood of the living. I still hold to the Seven Who Are One, even though I am rightly damned in their eyes. I have killed both accidentally and with purpose, and each death weighs more upon my conscience.

I love you Rhaenyra, daughter of the House of Targaryen. I cannot describe the happiness you have already brought to my undeath. The world seems to pop with color and potential when you are by my side, even though I know that I am unworthy of such a blessing.

I am a greedy creature, whose unnatural lusts sully all that is holy. I have committed the most egregious sins, and ought to to be judged accordingly. I place my fate in the hands of the woman I love, who I have most unfairly wronged. I am yours Rhaenyra, and you may do with me as you wish."

Alicent had scarcely finished before I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug, which she instinctually stiffened against. I felt tears welling in my eyes, and I buried my face in her shoulder. She smelled of blood, and I thought blood had never been so sweet. "You fool of a woman," I mumbled, "I became a kinslayer for your sake, there is no force on earth I will permit to separate us."

My lady love possessed no counter argument.

I heard something or other drop to the floor as she melted into my embrace, babbling about how sorry she was, how utterly perfect I was, and that she did not deserve me. I cannot tell you how long we remained so intertwined. My world had narrowed to Alicent, my whole being devoted to reassuring her that she was loved and that I would not abandon her.

I have since learned that such fears rarely account for trifling matters like reason or sense, but at the time, I was most perturbed. I thought it rather hurtful that Alicent thought I would cast her aside, and I resolved to talk to her later about the matter. Surely she could discern that I was besotted with her?

We were so caught up in the moment that my first inkling of trouble was the stiffening of Alicent in my arms. An all too familiar voice echoed through the sept, its owner powered by a fury I thought him incapable of.

"Get away from my daughter!"

Alicent reacted with all the prenatural alacrity I was coming to expect from her. I found myself rather unceremoniously deposited behind her as she interposed herself between my father and I. My eyes could not help but linger on the blood dripping from the Lieutenant's blade as my father prowled forward, his face contorted in a rage I had never seen before. At some point he had discarded his coat, and for the first time I truly saw Viserys Targaryen instead of Father.

Four of Daemon's men fanned out behind him, moving with discipline and speed. It was only now I realized the sounds of fighting had ceased to slip through the holes in the sept's walls, and I cursed my own stupidity. The outcome of the skirmish outside had clearly been unfortunate for Talya' and her men. It seemed Alicent realized this too, for I heard her whisper a sorrowful prayer under her breath.

My father pointed his sword at Alicent. "I will repeat myself, fiend," he rumbled, "release Rhaenyra at once, or I shall gut you like a fish."

I could see the soldiers taking aim at us, and Alicent began to tense, like a cat preparing to pounce. I started to step out from behind Alicent, but the glance she shot me was filled with such terror that I halted mid-step.

"This is my final warning," my father spoke, his fiery rage replaced by an icy anger, " I do not care what manner of foul power you hold over her; you will dispel it and let my daughter go."

I confess it was wildly inappropriate, dangerous, and foolhardy, but I could not help but laugh aloud. As both Targaryen and vampire stared uncomprehendingly, a sudden hysteria took over me, and my body was wracked by a laugh I can only describe as crazed.

Father walked in on Alicent and I in an embrace and immediately assumed she had cast a spell over me.

As my laughter started to subside in intensity, my father finally deigned to address me, "Rhaen-"

I cut him off with a scoff, "Alicent holds no power over me save that which I give her freely."

His look of shock would be comical if not for the circumstances, for as my hysteria waned I became acutely aware of the rifles pointed at Alicent and I. Nonetheless, my blood was up, and I pressed onwards:

"Alicent never placed a spell upon Laena. Your brother brutally murdered an innocent girl for daring to talk back to him, which should have been blatantly obvious to anyone with a lick of sense! You are blind Father, and willfully so."

If before his expression was one of shock, now a gasp of horror escaped his lips, "Then…."

"Yes Father, everything I have done today I have done of my own free will. Both you and Alicent seem incapable of understanding that she is far from an irredeemable monster, and that I might genuinely care for her!"

My voice was impassioned, filled with rage and affection in equal measure. As I spoke, my father's face became more and more ashen, but I had no pity for him:

"I struck down Daemon with his own gun; I shot him in the back as he tried to kill Alicent. I would do it again in a heartbeat because I love her. I love her in the same manner you loved my mother. I cherish every moment with her, and I will not permit anyone to harm her."

The awkward silence that followed my words was uncomfortable. My dear Ali would later tell me she was quite embarrassed by such a "public" declaration of love, but in the moment her face bore only its usual stately mask. The four armed soldiers were still waiting for the order to fire, and I could see them becoming restless. My father's confidence had crumbled, and he was looking between Alicent and I, his face as white as a sheet.

I resolved to take advantage of his disorientation while there was still time for a peaceful resolution. "I implore you, Father," I spoke softly, "let us go, for I do not wish to see you harmed."

My father visibly mustered up all of the dignity and gravitas he had to offer. His eyes met mine and his mouth began to open, but before he could speak a word I heard a crack, and my leg flared with the most intense pain I had ever felt. I toppled to the floor with an involuntary cry, and Alicent screamed. Dimly, I thought I ought to comfort her.

Shock set in almost instantaneously, my pain fading away as the world narrowed and blurred. I cannot say for certain what happened afterwards, for my memories are not quite up to the task. What I can attest to with certainty is that no living being left that sept.

There is a common misconception, born I think from penny dreadfuls, that a shot to the legs is always crippling but not lethal. This may sometimes be true, but if a bullet ruptures an artery, a gunshot wound to the leg may kill just as surely as a shot to the chest. I remember little of my death, only Ali's blood splattered face, her eyes filled with tears, her hand cupping my cheek, and the feeling of her fangs piercing my neck. Then, nothing at all.

I died of exsanguination, cradled in my lover's arms.

Spoiler: A/N

I am splitting this chapter in two because a) it is better thematically, and b) I came down with a stomach bug and did not make as much progress as I hoped.

My sincerest apologies for the delay.

As always all errors are mine, and I welcome any feedback you have.

 

[mothematics]

Fantastic. I'm glad this was posted here, I never would've read it otherwise.

 

[Lazer Raptor]

XIII

Spoiler: Author's Note and Content Warning

I had massive writer's block, and the election slowed me down further, but the final chapter is here and it is queer! This is where the story really earns its mature tag. The explicit content should be pretty clearly marked, and it ends after the line beginning with "It turns out". Thank you so much @mothematics for providing feedback on my fumbling attempts to write smut!

As always, all errors are mine, and I appreciate any feedback you may have.

​

I awoke to darkness.

I sucked in a shallow breath, the air stale and rank. My groping hands found wood above me. Fueled by some animal instinct I pushed frantically, trying to get up, to get out, to get free.

To my great surprise, a tremendous crack was immediately followed by the feeling of dirt. I made the mistake of trying to breathe, and earth invaded my lungs, smothering me. Like a madwoman I clawed my way upwards, unable to breathe, unable to think, until my hand met the open air, and a very familiar touch upon it.

I was pulled out of my grave by strong arms, spitting up dirt and desperately trying to clear my eyes.

Before I could finish, a pair of warm arms pulled me into a soft body, and I heard a choked "Rhaenyra…" in that voice I had grown so fond of.

I opened my eyes to Alicent's face buried in my shoulder, tears soaking my tattered clothing. Behind her I could see a rather bemused looking Talya, illuminated by the lantern she carried. Two rather rough looking fellows stood next to her, carrying shovels, and a frightened constable knelt in front of Talya.

Then I felt it. The thirst.

I think the description of a vampire's need for blood as "thirst" is perhaps a bit one dimensional, but I can hardly blame those writers who have never experienced it for their oversimplification. The perpetual necessity of blood to perpetuate a vampire's existence is entangled with desire in a most queer manner, which varies from vampire to vampire. Alicent has confessed that she cannot stomach the blood of men, and similarly feels no attraction to them. In contrast I dine on men and women alike, and I am capable of desiring men, albeit to a lesser extent than the fairer sex. Feeding is pleasurable for the vampire, and as I experienced, may be more or less enjoyable or horrid for the victim; but like the consumption of water, feeding is a necessity whose denial can lead to death.

As such, when I felt it for the first time, when new instincts screamed at me to drink, drink, drink, I pulled out of Alicent's arms and practically pounced upon the unlucky constable.

I cannot describe the experience of drinking blood, it is unlike any experience I had as a living woman. Some have compared it to intimacy, or theorized that it replaces a vampire's romanticism and affection, but neither theory is accurate. To drink of a living being is at once sweet succor and desperate relief, but it is distinct from any human sensation….. My words fail me. I can describe what the experience is not, but I cannot express what it feels like. I suppose reassuring the reader that once a vampire begins feeding, it is not easy to stop.

I drank and drank and drank, until the poor man had expired and I was left holding a corpse. The thrill of feeding lingered for a moment, but now that I was fed, my reason reasserted itself, and I found myself rather horrified. The weight of the situation pressed upon me. I had died, been buried, and returned to life as an undead predator of the night. I might have thought the whole experience to have been a hysterical delusion if not for the frightened face of a deceased constable staring up at me.

Now that I had fed, that comfortable languor I had grown so familiar with started to settle over me, but with it came a new energy and vitality that hummed beneath my skin. I rose from the ground, turning my head away from the corpse, and casting my gaze back to Alicent. When I met her eyes, joy and sadness warred on her face, and after a few moments of blissful connection she averted her eyes as if ashamed.

This would not do. Gliding across the ground with newfound grace and speed, I pulled my lady into an embrace and captured her lips with a loving kiss. She squeaked in a rather undignified manner, and I could not help but let out an affectionate laugh.

"My dearest Alicent" I whispered, "what could you possibly have to be ashamed about?" Her blush was a rather fetching shade of red, and I silently thanked my newfound night-vision for allowing me this sight. Alicent mustered her composure and looked me seriously in the eyes.

With a wavering voice, she spoke: "Rhaenyra…I… this was not how I hoped for you to join me in undeath." She swallowed, "I wanted to give the opportunity to make a fully informed decision, a choice previously denied to you. I wanted you to be comfortable, ready, loved, and sure."

"Alicent," I responded, "it's not your fault." Giving her my best crooked smile, I continued, "I can hardly be cross with you for giving me the opportunity to spend more time with you, now can I?"

She rolled her eyes at me. "Truly love is blind," she intoned, her voice fond, "for how else could I have fallen for such a troublesome woman?"

Now it was my turn to color but, before I could continue our exchange, Talya cleared her throat behind us.

"While I must admit it is adorable seeing you two dote on one another," she began, "we did come here to do something, Alicent." Gesturing to her men, she spoke with the voice of a woman long used to catering to vampiric eccentricities, suggesting that Alicent and I retire to the nearby coach.

Alicent attempted to volunteer her assistance, but Talya just waved her off, telling her to "take care of your sweetheart".

Ali intertwined her fingers with mine and led me towards the coach. On the way, she attempted to explain how I had gotten here in the first place, and what Talya and her men were doing with my grave. They were moving it.

In the rather irrational manner I have come to associate with magic, a vampire's existence is tied to the wood, dirt, or stone in which they were buried. A vampire does not need to return to the grave every morning, but we must remain within a certain range of the proper soil, timber, masonry, etc. I will not disclose exactly how a gravesite can be "moved" or what a vampire's range is (a lady must keep her secrets), but suffice to say transporting a vampire requires an extra degree of planning and care.

As Alicent explained this to me, the rush of the day I died caught up to me. Before, I had been too distracted to process what had transpired, but now delayed emotions flooded through me all at once. I would never see my father again, never hear him ramble about some aspect of Valyrian history that had caught his fancy, or stroll through the woods with him. I would never again dodge Mrs. Marlow's lessons, nor see the Red Keep again.

I felt regret, grief, and a tinge of sadness sink their claws into my heart, for, as flawed as he was, I could not help but mourn my father. I quieted, letting Alicent carry the conversation, and started to withdraw inwards.

I was a fool to think my lady would not notice this. She released my hand, and a moment later I found myself being enveloped by warm arms from behind. She planted a kiss on the nape of my neck, and my insides melted with her warmth. My grief became something sublime, a grief both joyous and terrible, as if my soul was being born anew.

I was burning from the inside out. A sweet madness had overtaken me, a love which consumed and tainted all it touched. I turned myself in my beloved's arms, cupping her radiant face and resting my forehead against hers.

My old life was naught but ash, and when she took my hand, I let her lead me into a new world.

If it were Alicent writing this testament, she would end my story here, for my lover has never been comfortable disclosing private moments with me to others. Alicent keeps her intimate memories close to her chest, so that she might "selfishly" keep them for herself. She is not Mysaria, who when we first met spoke quite frankly of having previously bedded my uncle and without shame cut our meeting short so that she might make love to Talya.

In contrast, I am greedy for recognition. I want others to know how much I love Alicent, how lucky I am to have her, and how utterly wonderful she is. I wish for all of her many and manifold virtues to be recognized and applauded by all of the world.

The incident I now relate to you occurred when our coach stopped for a rest at an inn. Alicent needed to teach me how to avoid killing people while feeding or accidentally turning them. After an adventure which I may put to page at a later date, we returned silently to our room at the inn, slipping in through the window. She turned to me, as if to say something, and although I no longer needed to breathe, at that moment I was breathless, struck dumb by her beauty. The world disappeared. There was only Alicent and I.

[Note: This section was originally removed by Lucerys Velaryon for insulting his delicate sensibilities. I have restored it based on the original manuscript for this edition.] - Arya Flowers

I do not know which of us initiated the kiss. Her lips tasted of blood and honey, and the softness alone was enough to awaken the slumbering dragon which we call Desire. It struck me like a physical wave, shattering my thoughts and setting my body aflame with need. My tongue moved on its own, tracing sharp fangs as it sought my lady's warmth. My vampiric grace deserted me as I melted into Alicent's curves, moaning at every blissful touch.

I was greatly perturbed when she broke the kiss, but rather than pulling away, my lover's mouth found my neck and bit. Her carefully controlled fangs marked my flesh with a flash of pain that shot straight to the burning heat in my belly. Alicent caught me as my knees buckled, unused to such a powerful sensation. I looked up and saw her gazing at me with lidded eyes filled with a hunger that electrified me with anticipation.

I could hear the ocean of desire that lay beneath the calm she tried to inject into her voice:

"You know… it becomes much easier to touch each other without clothing in the way."

My lady's words managed to pierce through the haze of lust which clouded my thoughts, and I pulled myself to my feet and hurried to comply. Unfortunately, my vampiric grace cruelly deserted me as I fumbled with my smallclothes, eliciting a gentle laugh from Alicent. I eventually managed to disrobe, only to find Alicent already waiting for me on the room's sole bed.

The ignorant and foolish claim that two women cannot bed each other, for we "lack the equipment" to do so. Such assertions are laughable at best, for nearly anything a man can do for a woman can be accomplished just as well (if not better) by the nimble fingers or skilled tongue of another woman. Only pregnancy is denied to the woman who receives her pleasure from other women, for even if one specifically craves a cock, the gods have given us the intelligence necessary to fashion replacements.

When I looked upon Alicent's naked body, I was overcome with an affection which answers to no name save for Love. She was a vision of beauty, a masterpiece of the human form. My eyes traced the curves of her form, appreciating her shapely legs and supple thighs, lingering atop her perfect breasts, before meeting a gaze which burned between my legs. I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything. The world blurred, and then I was atop her, my mouth hungrily claiming her own. She whimpered with pleasure, deepening the kiss, and the heady mix of arousal filled my nostrils. She was so soft, so warm, so supple and sweet I could barely think.

Alicent broke the kiss, gently gazing into my eyes. Her eyes were darker than I had ever seen them, and I could not help but moisten at the all-consuming desire that lay within them. "Nyra…." she husked, "will you allow me to show you how to please a woman?"

My breathless affirmation illuminated her face with a look of pure devotion. My lover deftly maneuvered me onto my back, her mouth once again meeting mine. I felt Alicent's slender fingers glide across my skin, as I leaned into her touch. Hands ghosted down my stomach, gently prying my legs apart and rubbing circles on my thighs.

Once again my lady broke the kiss, shooting me a look as if to ask "are you certain?" My impatient groan was sufficient for her to resume her task, and I gasped as Alicent's fingers slid into my entrance. The pad of one finger brushed over my clitoris, and I saw stars. I was her instrument, soft clay in her supremely talented hands.

"Gods Nyra," she breathed, "you're so wet for me." A love bordering on obsession burned in her eyes as her fingers pumped in and out of my slick folds. I was ablaze with arousal, dissolving under the ministrations of the queen of my heart; but right before I reached my peak, Alicent withdrew her fingers, cruelly denying me the joy of her touch. Her gaze turned downright predatory, and my cunt ached for her."My darling girl," she almost sang, "you need to learn self-control, remember?"

My desperate whimper only caused her to raise a perfect eyebrow, goading me. "Please Alicent," I begged, "take me! Make me yours!"

"Good girl," she cooed, "I have traveled for a hundred years and yet you are the comeliest girl I have ever laid eyes upon." She leaned down, her lips hovering right beside my ear, her scent enveloping me. "You are beautiful Rhaenyra," she whispered, "never forget that you are my light and my love." I had no chance to respond before she claimed my lips with her own, biting hard enough to draw blood. I thought it tasted strangely, but evidently the taste of my blood was most pleasing to my lady love. Alicent thrust her fingers within me, my walls clenching around them, and with a muffled scream I reached my peak.

My vision went white, my body bucking under my lover's weight, and I felt myself bite down. Ecstasy flooded my veins, and I clung to Alicent like a lifeboat in a storm.

Our blood mixed, and the distinctions between us blurred. There was no Rhaenyra and Alicent, only Us. In the moment, the pleasure had swept away every thought in my head, but later I would recall the usage of blood in Valyrian marriage ceremonies, and tease Alicent about marrying me only a few days after kissing me for the first time.

Finally I went limp, frissions of pleasure still echoing through my body. My gentle lover, my salvation and sweet damnation, petted my hair. Her musical voice filled my ears, murmuring sweet nothings about how good I was for her, how much she loved me, and how perfect I was. For a few moments I just basked in the afterglow, in the feeling of being held in Alicent's lovely arms. I idly thought back to a confession she had made in the coach, that on the night I could not find her she had gone to kill Larys. She snapped his neck with the same nimble hands which had oh so gently coaxed me into climax, and which now worked to assure me of her love.

I felt a swell of gratitude overcome me. I wanted nothing more than to show Alicent just how much I loved her. I wanted to make her feel adored and desired, to pleasure her as she had pleasured me. I pressed a quick kiss to her lips, then pushed her onto her back. "Now," I said with a sweet smile, "it is my turn to make you feel good."

"Is this not your first time?" Alicent retorted, "I do not wish to pressure you."

I could not help but laugh. "Ali," I said with fond exasperation, "I want to do this for you." My eyes roamed across her comely features, taking in her flushed cheeks, lingering on her lips; I began to devour her with my sight, feeling a primal desire, a visceral hunger burn within me. I wanted to paint my love across the canvas of her skin. I began kissing my way down her body, my teeth nipping, starting with her lips, progressing to her neck, peppering her breasts, and pausing right above her cleft.

Alicent's cunt was already soaked, and I took a moment to just breathe in the heavenly scent of her arousal before kissing my way up her supple thighs. As I lingered before her lower lips I could not help but marvel at what a wonderful creature my Alicent was. She was so comely as to have been fashioned in the image of the Maiden herself, with all the wisdom and wit of the Crone. A hand guided my head to her entrance, and for the first time I tasted the nectar of the woman I love. It was salty, but I had never supped on ambrosia as sweet as this.

I had been mistaken, Alicent was not fashioned in the image of the Maiden, she was the Maiden incarnate, the personification of beauty and love herself. Even more unbelievably, she was mine. Mine to love, mine to worship, mine to glorify, mine to exalt above all others. I sang her praises with my tongue, writing my name in her folds. Her cries became my heavenly choir, her pleasure my holy mission. I gave my soul to her, now and forever.

The distinctions between us blurred, the goddess and her priestess beginning to merge. I was drowning in her; her pleasure was my pleasure, our sensations bleeding together into a magnificent rapture. She cried my name, and as her climax coated my face with her love, my own peak wiped away my thoughts.

We lay there for a moment, our minds still blissfully as one. In the fading light of our afterglow, I made my way to her side, calling her attention with a soft touch. We gazed into each other's eyes, revealing our souls with nary a word.

In the language of touches and glances, we came to an agreement. Our lips met, fanning embers into flames, and we once again lost ourselves in the depths of our shared passion.

It turns out that vampires, contrary to our typically languid nature, have excellent stamina.

When we had more than confirmed that our attraction was physical as well as mental, it was time to prepare for our "sleep". As we lay there, our limbs intertwined, wrapped in a cocoon of each other's warmth, I was content. I idly toyed with a strand of Alicent's auburn tresses, and she nestled further into the warmth of my bosom. No matter what we would face, we would face it together.

The love between Alicent and I had devoured us, consuming all it encountered until it had no rivals left to challenge it. Love damned us, but it also saved us. My life without Alicent was but a pale imitation of the life I now lead, and Alicent has, on multiple occasions, confided that she had little to exist for before I entered her world. We vampires are eternal, but it is not our curse that continues to animate us when all we have known has turned to dust; it is our love for one another.

- Rhaenyra Targaryen

---

Afterword​

After reading such a queer tale, one may begin to question if any of what they have read has a basis in fact, or if the entire story is but the fabrication of a particularly clever forger. As such, before publishing this text, I conducted rather thorough research on the matter, and determined several things.

Rhaenyra Targaryen was a real person, the daughter of Viserys Targaryen and the niece of Daemon Targaryen. House Targaryen did indeed vanish from Westeros in the year 116 AU (530 AD by the Valyrian Calendar), with no explanation proffered. The bodies of the three are not registered in any cemetery that I know of. As she was part of my family, I already knew the fate of Laena, our records and the records of the cemetery in which she was entombed show that she passed away from disease while a ward of Daemon Targaryen. House Hightower was indeed one of the great pre-Unification houses, and their line ended with Lecinta Hightower, daughter of Alicent Hightower and an unknown man.

It would have been most useful if I could track down Maester Gerardys or Mrs. Marlow, or at least look at the Maester's papers, but I found no trace of them. I know that Gerardys existed, the Citadel's rolls are quite clear on this matter, but I have not an inkling where he might have ended up, for it seems he often departed on trips without alerting his colleagues. Lieutenant Farwynd was an officer of the Imperial and Royal Army, but he died while on exercises in the Riverlands, nowhere near this purported firefight. As for the mysterious Mysaria and Talya, I found no trace whatsoever.

Where does this leave us? I originally thought that this might have been a forgery from someone familiar with the area and the local folklore, which speaks of a demon woman that dwells in the ruins of Hightower Keep. The level of detail required, however, outstrips what I would expect of a local villager, and it made little sense for someone to create a forgery with such an absurd narrative. As such, I have recently settled upon an explanation which I think accounts for the contradictory evidence.

I believe that this document was indeed penned by Rhaenyra Targaryen, as an account of the fall of her family. I do not, however, believe that she told the whole truth. Instead, I propose that this document is a merger of fact and fiction, a story which conforms to the truth in specific details, but does all it can to present Rhaenyra in an exculpatory light. I theorize that Rhaenyra did in fact murder her father and uncle, and that she then fled

Alicent Hightower is a historical figure and local demon that anyone living in the area would be aware of, and thus she makes a convenient scapegoat, but that does not explain why Rhaenyra would write about a twisted affair with the woman. I believe the solution lies with the "village girl" mentioned as passing early in Rhaenyra's narrative. If Rhaenyra Targaryen, succumbing to her perversions, entered into a deviant relationship with a village girl, then it would stand to reason that her father and uncle, rightly horrified, would attempt to rectify this. I postulate that Daemon discovered the unnatural coupling happening in the Red Keep, and, assuming that the village girl had seduced his niece, killed the village girl. Rhaenyra, far more devious and corrupt than either her father or uncle knew, vowed to take revenge, slew her relatives and fled the area, living thereafter under a false name. In her grief and delusional love, she wrote this testimony, casting herself as a maiden seduced by a mythical creature of the night. She knew Laena and Lieutenant Farwynd had recently passed, and added them to her story for the sake of giving it an additional air of legitimacy.

In this manner we can explain everything, and without relying on superstitions like the existence of vampires!

- Lucerys Velaryon