Alicent (HotD/Carmilla)

[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.

 

[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