Chapter Text
When she was a girl, Alicent had imagined her wedding.
Tucked into the corner of the library at the Hightower she would read books–legends about Garth Greenhand, the history about the coming of the Andals, the tale of Nymeria fleeing on the ten thousand ships–and when a wedding was mentioned she wondered what hers would look like.
She did this in the detached way children have about them around this age, where they picture a vague image of their future; the shapes muted and hard to pick out, but the idea clear enough to parse. Alicent imagined walking down the aisle, exchanging vows, hearing the songs sung in the Starry Sept.
At the time she thought this would be quite pretty, and then proceeded to keep reading because, after all, she was young and there were always more stories to read.
Now, many years later, not only can she see what her wedding looks like, she gets to experience it too.
The black marble of the starry sept spreads out underneath her in all its glory, the pockmarks of gold and white in the stone making it look like the night sky. Garlands of sweet roses and hyacinths are strung along the walls and the pews, along with colorful dyed ribbons. Her dress is ivory silk, her wedding cloak embroidered meticulously with the white, gold, and green of her house.
On either side of her Lord and Ladies from various houses sworn to house Hightower or are close friends, watching her approach the other end of the room. (Larys Strong is among them, his eyes on her like grease.) Her father is beside her, her hand tucked into his elbow as he leads her down the long carpet towards her husband-to-be. Otto Hightower looks proud, but it’s not the kind beaming pride of a father who is happy his child is moving towards her future–his emotions are more muted, like he’s keeping them behind a wall.
Directly in front of them stand the massive statues of the Mother and the Father, hands clasped together over the altar, and underneath them is the High Septon, (her father was most proud that he could get the High Septon to perform the ceremony) and beside him is her soon-to-be husband, Lord Jasper Wylde.
When her father had arranged this match, he had done so with the assurance that Lord Wylde would take care of her, that she would be wealthy and her children would want for nothing. He was five and ten years older than her, hair and beard well kept and trimmed, clothes made of velvet and silk, and had a knack for numbers few men did.
He was a good choice, a respectable choice, a smart choice. That is what Otto told her.
And Alicent couldn’t argue–didn’t even think to–and accepted her fathers wisdom, as she was taught to do, as a good daughter should.
Your wedding will be beautiful, Otto had said as he leaned down and kissed her temple, and he was right. Her wedding is beautiful.
It’s beautiful, like a dream. With the flowers and the Sept and the sunlight coming through the stained glass windows on the wall. Most girls would be wildly jealous of her (in fact they are jealous as Alicent has overheard many of them say) but she never felt the need to brag. All she felt, all she continues to feel is a sense of duty. That she's accomplishing something, that she’s doing something good.
Otto finally leads her to the altar, and places her hand in Jaspers; his hands are rough, and not very warm, but his bones are strong and his hands are big. That must count for something.
Lord Wylde gives her a small nod, and then he nods at the Septon. The man lifts his in the air and the chorus of postulants and initiates ceases their singing and then he begins his long speech.
The High Septon preaches, talks about how the Seven came to Hugor of the Hill, gifted him with a wife and knowledge of how to grow his kingdom, gifted him sons to lead his armies, and swords to destroy enemies with.
He talks of virtue, he talks of duty, he talks of faith, and he talks of love.
A shadow passes over one of the windows but when Alicent looks up to see what it was, there’s nothing there.
She turns her head and looks at Jasper Wylde. She notes the curls in his beard, the gray hairs poking from his temples, to the faint wrinkles near his eyes. She tries to muster a feeling, anything, about him; but when she searches for something, a sense of rightness or happiness, she finds nothing.
She feels empty, like her insides have been scooped out with a ladle and all that's left is her hollow carcass.
The Septon drones on but Alicent furrows her brows as the faint sounds of shouting and clanging echo faintly from behind the doors into the Sept.
“Now for the Seven vows.” The Septon says, motioning to the two of them. Lord Wylde and Alicent both kneel, and Alicent swallows the dry lump in her throat.
Together, she and Lord Wylde recite the seven vows:
I will emulate the Father’s justice as we move in the world together.
I will be kind to my love like the Mother.
I will have courage to face hardship and strife like the Warrior.
If there is turmoil I shall mend what’s broken like the Smith.
I will be chaste and loving like the Maiden.
I will guide my love with wisdom, like the Crone.
And when my time to be led to the Seven Heavens comes, I will be proud of what I tell the Stranger of my union when I meet them.
The High Septon raises his hands over the two of them, “if anyone should challenge this union here before the Seven, let them come forward now, or they shall forever remain silent-”
The double doors slam open behind them, and shouts of confusion and fear rise among the nobles in the room.
Alicent whips around to see what’s happening but there’s only thick gray smoke beyond the threshold of the door and hears the clear sound of metal clanging against a hard surface.
Then, a large scaled hand appears.
Out of the thick smoke, a creature right out of a storybook struts into view; a large body, covered in dark gray scales that shimmer in the light. From its back protrude a pair of massive dark wings with a line of spikes tracing from the top of its head to the middle of its tail, which ends in a sharp spade. The creature has a long reptilian snout, and a pair of long curved pale horns that look like ivory in the light.
This is a creature of legend. A monster made of fire and brimstone. A dragon.
The creature looks around furiously, violet eyes flicking between guests before it snorts out a gust of gray smoke.
For a moment everyone just stares, overwhelmed with shock. Then someone screams, and the room descends into chaos.
Alicent’s brother, her cousin Ormund and a handful of other knights draw their swords, move to stand in the aisle in front of the creature. Mothers and fathers are picking up children and sprinting for the doors in the back of the room, while various ladies and lords begin to pray.
With a furious yell, Gwayne charges the beast, followed closely by a handful of the other men in the room. Alicent wants to scream at Gwayne to stay put, that his sword will do nothing, but she’s not fast enough.
The dragon turns and with a swing of its tail it bats Gwayne, Ormund, and the rest of the men as easily as if it were flicking lint off a table. They go flying, hitting the stone walls and pillars of the Starry Sept with sickening thuds.
“I will be satisfied.” It snarls, voice sounding like stones rubbing together. “I will have my pound of flesh!” It turns its head back and suddenly Alicent is meeting startling violet eyes.
The dragon begins to move toward her, predatory and aggressive but it's then that the High Septon decides to act.
“Begone foul creature!” He screeches, “you are unwelcome in this holy place-”
The dragon opens its mouth and roars.
Alicent claps a hand over her ears as the sound nearly deafens her, when she looks she sees that Lord Wylde is hunched over doing the same. When she looks up again, the High Septon is on his knees, shaking like a leaf.
“Leave.” The dragon hisses, eyes narrowed.
The room goes painfully quiet and Alicent watches as the High Septon literally crawls away, shaking, shivering, and afraid. Alicent understands him, her own hands are shaking so badly her whole body quivers with it.
The dragon watches the High Septon retreat with a tilt of its head before its eyes snap to Otto, to her father.
“I have spent years tracing who was behind my sire’s death at Dragonstone.” It stalks toward Otto, violence swimming in those violet eyes. “Questioning, and paying, and threatening whoever I needed in order to understand who would kill Viserys–imagine my surprise when I finally find out that a human Lord from the Reach is the one who did it.”
Otto stands tall before this dragon shaking, his face turned white as bone.
“I did not raise any sword against any dragon.” He says, voice shaking ever so slightly.
The dragon stops right in front of him, staring him down with a kind of fury Alicent has never seen. “And yet–it was your seal on the papers. Your name is signed at the bottom of receipts to the Goldcloaks. I know, because I have them.”
Otto’s lips thin further, and he takes a step back. Smoke begins to waft from the dragon's mouth, eyes almost glowing with anger and malice.
“Your life is mine, Hightower.”
“There will be consequences for this, dragon.” Otto says, backing away. “My brother will not tolerate–”
“I don’t care.” The dragon opens its mouth, and Alicent can see the orange glow from inside its maw, the light of fire and brimstone. “You will answer for my sire’s death with your life.”
Alicent is shaking, and there is a cold breeze on her face, which she quickly realizes are just tears falling down her cheeks. Her father raised her, gave her a roof over her head, gave her books to read and food to eat. He loves her, she knows and she loves him, and she cannot watch him die.
“Please,” Alicent begs, falling to her knees. “Please–spare him.”
The dragon snaps its gaze to her, “Why? Do you humans not punish each other for killing? Why should I be denied my revenge?”
Otto takes the momentary distraction to try and run towards the double doors, but the dragon is faster. It snatches a hand out and slams Otto against the wall of the sept, and her father lets out a pained gasp when his shoulder hits the stone. The dragon holds him there as it opens its mouth, fire rolling and burning behind its teeth.
“We can come to an agreement!” Otto shouts, “I can offer you anything–gold! Riches!”
“I don’t want your gold.” The dragon pushes him harder against the wall, and Otto groans. “I want your life, or a life of equal value.” The dragon snorts, and tilts its head at Alicent. “If not you, then who? Perhaps I should take the life of your daughter in your stead, hmm?”
The beast says it derisively, like the idea is preposterous, like it wont seriously entertain the thought.
And then her father yells out, “take her then! Spare me!”
The dragon looks like it almost recoils, clearly surprised. Alicent stares at the shocked beast for a long moment before she mechanically shifts her gaze to her father.
Surely Alicent is hearing things. Surely he didn’t just offer her up as a sacrifice in his stead.
The dragon recovers first, and leans its head forward. “What did you just say?”
Otto’s breathing heavily, sweating and panting in pain; his eyes flick to Alicent once, wide and panicked, before looking back at the dragon. “Take my daughter instead. Spare me.”
Alicent looks at her father, really looks at him, waiting for him to contradict himself, to say it was a lie. That he would never agree to anything so monstrous, but he doesn’t say anything. The look on Otto’s face is not one of outrage or shock, just fear.
Fear and regret.
“Gods above” a voice breathes and Alicent had almost forgotten Jasper Wylde existed, but she looks over when he speaks. He’s staring between Otto and the dragon with horrified eyes.
Otto looks at him first, and then, he looks at Alicent. His eyes–brown, dark, the same shade as her own–stare back at her, and Alicent knows.
“No.” She whispers, voice quiet.
Otto continues to stare at her, regret overtaking the fear now, but his lips stay shut as the dragon releases its hold. She stares at him hard, memorizing his features, his straight auburn hair, his bushy eyebrows, the rough texture of his beard, the wrinkles around his eyes, the rich velvet of his doublet, the glint of the seven pointed star around his neck.
She looks at him and remembers her father as she’s always seen him: stoic, thoughtful, and proud. That’s who he’s always been, that’s who he’s always been.
So why is who she knows him to be not the man standing before her?
“Very well.” The dragon releases Otto from its grasp and stalks towards her. Alicent’s body reacts before her mind does and she scrambles away from the creature on her hands and rear, her breath catching as fear spikes in her blood. The dragon stalks toward her with head lowered, claws clicking on the black marble, its eyes fixed on Alicent like polished amethyst.
I’m going to die, Alicent thinks, panic flooding her veins and tears running down her cheeks. I’m going to die on my own wedding day.
The dragon snatches a hand out and pins Alicent to the ground, its fingers wrapping around her torso like she's a ragdoll. Alicent thinks she should pray maybe, ask for forgiveness, for no pain, for a place in the heavens with her mother.
The dragon's hand tightens around her, pressing into the soft flesh around her ribs. It gazes down at her and Alicent expects it to open its mouth; to belch flame and smoke from its throat and incinerate her.
But the dragon just stares down at her, there’s still anger swimming in its eyes but also–a hint of curiosity.
The dragon snarls, but instead of being torn in two, suddenly Alicent is being scooped up in one scaled arm and almost cradling her to its warm chest.
The dragon beats its large wings and they take off from the ground–Alicent doesn’t even have time to scream.
Otto’s shocked face is the last thing she sees before the dragon surges suddenly, and Alicent can’t stop herself from screaming as the large beast launches itself through one of the massive stained glass windows and into the open air. Wind whips at her face and her hair, and the massive wings that block the glass from move to reveal the sprawling city of Oldtown.
The dragon's wings beat against the open air, and Alicent only gets a second to process the view before the warning bells begin to ring out across the city.
The dragon beats its mighty wings and roars, soaring away to gods-know-where, and Alicent’s vision goes spotty. She only has the chance to groan before her eyes go completely dark and she goes limp in the monster's arms.
//
The first thing Alicent notices is that her room doesn’t smell the same.
Her eyes flutter open and she takes in her surroundings; she’s in a bedroom, with three large book shelves, a writing desk, chairs around a tall tea table, and something that looks like a long ottoman. To her left is a massive window, looking out into the bright blue sky. The walls around her are dark like obsidian, with grooves in the stone making it like it was grown rather than carved.
Alicent sits up and pushes the furs off her; at the foot of the bed is a soft looking blue robe, which she pulls on and she stands. The stone floor is cold on her bare feet.
She steps around the room to the window; outside the sky is dotted with clouds, but below her is the lower walls of the castle, and the rocky outcroppings that separate the dark walls from a glittering sea.
Her mouth falls open as she stares out into the horizon, not comprehending what she’s seeing. It was only a day ago that she was in The Reach, preparing for her own wedding, and now she’s somewhere on the coast?
Her mind flashes back to a day ago: the smell of smoke, the roar of a dragon, eyes the color of dusk, her father–
Her father. Her father, who told the dragon to take her. To kill her.
Take her then! Spare me!
Her heart seizes, her breath hitching. She shoves the memory away violently, her hands gripping the widows edge with white knuckles. She can’t, she can’t think about it, she can’t–
And then she hears a noise, and whips her head around to watch as what she thought was a large fur rug begins to move.
“Mother help me.” She whispers in shock, hand coming up to her throat as the creature on the ground in front of her bed sits up; its fur is golden like wheat, with pointed ears and long silvery whiskers. Its paws are about the size of Alicent’s face and when it yawns, it reveals teeth the size of daggers.
Alicent stares at the creature who then licks its lips before turning its head and fixing its yellow-eyed gaze on Alicent.
Alicent is sprinting for her bedroom door before she knows what's happening. She yanks it open, and runs.
She has no idea what she’s doing or where she’s going, all she’s really trying to do is escape this nightmare.
The dark walls blur together around her, and her breath runs ragged. She isn’t supposed to be here, she’s supposed to be married, she’s supposed to be eating breakfast next to a warm fire. She’s supposed to meet her castle staff and befriend her husband's Steward so she knows the ins and outs of her new home.
She’s supposed to be a Lady, like her father always wanted.
Take her then! Spare me!
Alicent is so distracted that she doesn’t notice the figure turning the corner in front of her and she feels the very wind be knocked from her lungs when her body hits something very solid.
Alicent bounces off with a yelp, nearly falling to the ground but an arm shoots out and wraps around her waist to steady her. When she looks up she sees violet eyes staring down at her.
“I see you’re awake.” The figure says, and Alicent’s mind is whirling so fast that it takes her a moment to register anything, but her brain catches up to her eyes eventually.
The figure is a woman, but unlike any woman Alicent has ever seen. Alicent processes her looks before anything else: a lovely aquiline nose, silver-white hair, a sharp diamond shaped jaw, and strange, slit pupiled, violet eyes.
“I–” is all Alicent can sputter, completely caught off guard by a person casually walking around these halls like they’re not owned by a dragon.
Movement flickers behind the woman's head, but before Alicent can even try to see what it was she spots another detail she hadn’t before.
"Are you–do you have horns?” Alicent asks, eyes roving over the two curling white horns seemingly growing from the woman's head.
“Bit obvious isn’t it?” the woman cocks an eyebrow, lips twitching as if she’s amused, and Alicent feels completely overwhelmed by everything.
“I–the dragon we have to–we have to leave, we have to go.” Alicent tugs on the lapels of the women's long coat, but her companion doesn’t seem to care or budge at all under her movement.
“Just one problem with that, Lady.” She says, and Alicent realizes that those dark shapes behind her are wings, as they flutter and unfurl.
Alicent feels dread pool in her gut and pushes away from the woman, who’s smirk is less amused now.
“I’m afraid that you won't be leaving here anytime soon.”