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123 AC, King's Landing
Alicent sat calmly in her chambers, dreading the coming conversation. They had returned to King's Landing, and during the entire trip, she a part of her feared what would happen the moment they made their way back to the Red Keep.
She could barely eat anything during the grand feast that her father arranged for, to commemorate Viserys' healthy return to King's Landing, and the King felt at home with the celebrations, drinking more than his share of wine, and jovially celebrating alongside his Lords and had all but declared a tourney in a moon's time to cement his newfound health and his claiming of Vermithor.
It was a far cry from the pensive man who roamed the halls of Dragonstone. They had barely spoken to one another when they were on that cursed island, with the King often asking his Kingsguard not to be disturbed or just having long meetings with Rhaenys.
Perhaps it was the claiming of Vermithor that had changed Viserys so, not just being healed. There was some more life to him that had been missing ever since Aemma died. She had heard Daemon mutter once that the King's fire had dimmed when Balerion perished. That was almost a lifetime ago, when Alicent was but a girl still mourning her mother's death, a handmaid of the princess, and not the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
She was the most powerful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, and she still feared a conversation with her father.
Otto Hightower was a severe man, often stoic and rare with his praise. He often lost just as gracefully as he won, but what he hated most of all was failure, and Alicent had failed.
One of the first things he had asked of her when he was reinstated as Hand of the King was to help him secure his position in Court, to ensure that he wouldn't be dismissed once more. She had done as she was asked and slowly changed the Court and filled it with his supporters, letting him all but govern the realm when Viserys was bed-bound. And yet, now she had failed.
She could not convince Viserys to change his mind about Rhaenys' appointment, nor could she stop the marriage between Daemon's brat and her granddaughter.
The best she could manage was to convince Viserys not to send her father back to Oldtown, claiming that she would be distressed without him nearby. It had taken some arguing during the ride, with Rhaenys insisting on sending him away, citing needing a change with her own appointment, but she had won. However, she could not grant him a seat on the Small Council. Viserys had been annoyingly firm with this.
Then again, it might have simply been him wishing to end the conversation entirely to get back to that music box of his.
Her husband had been obsessed with it ever since the sorcerer had given it to him, often staying hours simply listening to a simple lullaby while staring at the sea.
Rhaenyra's Maester had examined the device briefly and claimed that, while advanced, it didn't seem like any sort of sorcery was at play, something that reassured her. She had also asked the man to see if Helaena's butterfly necklace, which she refused to remove, was safe. Rhaenyra's creature, he might be, but the man would not endanger the royal family.
Then again, she would have her own Maester look at things just to be sure.
A part of her had wanted her children to throw away the gifts, but they seemed very attached to them, not that Alicent could blame them. After all, she had kept her own gift as well, of course, after making a Maester examine it for days at a time. It was a mirror that had even looked better than the one that she had commissioned from Myr years ago. It was, without a doubt, worth a very great sum of gold, which would have been a shame to throw away.
Alicent vowed that she would sell the mirror and give the gold to the Faith or to feed the poor of King's Landing. It was a far better use of the mirror, especially given its magical origins. She still shuddered when she remembered the man's words, that the mirrors would show her true beauty. Of course, it had shown her nothing but her own reflection, even if it was extremely clear, so she tried to dismiss the words as nothing more than flattery, and yet, they still lingered in her mind.
Still, her children's defiance had surprised and worried her. Usually, Aegon tended to just do as she bid him if only to return to drinking his wine or bedding some maid, and Helaena rarely ever protested anything she had asked of her, and yet she vehemently refused to remove that butterfly necklace, one from an isle that was said to be riddled with some kind of plague. She didn't know much of Naath, and she didn't care to look either.
And yet, to this day, Aegon kept walking around with that strange, coloured dagger of his, despite asking him not to display a gift from a sorcerer openly. Although Alicent did like the blade's colour, which was a mixture of green and blue, and she hadn't even known that blacksmiths could add colour to steel.
Alicent closed her eyes and prayed to the Seven for her children's souls, hoping that they would set aside any foolish notions of magic and finally do their duty.
Like always, her prayers remained unanswered, and yet, the comfort that she often gained when she prayed, a faint reminder of her time with her own mother, was gone. Or perhaps it had been forgotten. Alicent couldn't help but mourn the feeling, thinking that something was still missing.
Her thoughts were broken by a knock on her door. She steeled herself, knowing that her father would not wait long.
"Come in," she said, voice steady.
The door opened to reveal Ser Gyles, one of her father's chosen guards. "The Lord Hand awaits you in his solar, Your Grace."
"Of course he does," she whispered to herself.
This was a common way that her father showed his displeasure, summoning her instead of simply coming himself. He was still technically Hand of the King, even if Viserys planned on revealing the change in Court later that day, and he had spoken of a feast in honour of his service to the crown, as well as using the coming tourney to also celebrate Rhaenys' new position.
Seeing as her father had decided to use what little power he had left as Hand to see her, Alicent decided to simply walk to the tower of the Hand and walk up his solar. The walk there wasn't troublesome, with Ser Criston following her faithfully. The Court was still uncertain on how to proceed with the King's newfound health and return. They could obviously sense that something would change soon, especially given Rhaenys' presence and Viserys being seen riding Vermithor.
Still, despite losing his legal authority soon, her father still had a lot of influence in the Capital, likely more than even Viserys, who had barely been seen for years. And yet, this loyalty was fickle, and her father would lose much with his dismissal, once it was officially known.
As Alicent walked up the stairs of the tower, she couldn't help but realise just how alone she truly was. Larys Strong had been one of the few true allies she had in court, at least one that would not be completely under the influence of her father, and now he was gone. She wouldn't say that she liked him, but Larys had kept her apprised of much of the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms, as well as Rhaenyra's movements. He would have helped her secure Aegon's right as the King's firstborn son.
With his injuries and disappearance, Alicent found herself more alone than ever, facing her father. Her children were defying her, her husband was ignoring her, and her father was likely disappointed in her. Even Aemond had barely even spoken to her since she returned.
Finally, she found herself before the doors to her father's solar, and after taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.
Otto Hightower didn't look up when she entered. He stood by the window with his hands behind his back, facing the city. The room was quiet, save for the sound of the wind outside. His desk was covered in documents. Letters, reports, and sealed scrolls were stacked neatly. After a moment, he turned around.
"I trust that you know why I called you here," he said.
Alicent nodded, "I do."
He handed her an unsealed letter, "Then let us get to this first. This arrived from Oldtown this morning."
Alicent grasped it and immediately recognised the handwriting. It belonged to that of her cousin, Ormund, who had recently ascended as the new Lord of the Hightower, and who Daeron squired after. She quickly scanned the document for mentions of her son, only to smile in pride as her cousin mentioned that he was growing well in his time in Oldtown, seemingly a talented knight in the making. He even said that a member of his household started calling him Daeron the Daring, as he had accidentally discovered some ancient secret room in the Hightower, and gotten stuck there for hours trying to get out.
The Queen of the Seven Kingdoms smiled in pride at the title, despite her worry at what could have happened if he hadn't been stopped, but apparently, the secret room was perfect in case of a siege or an attack. He seemed quite happy with it, all in all.
Of course, whatever pride she had disappeared when she read the next few paragraphs, "The Citadel was robbed?"
"Yes. The Maesters are quite disturbed and outraged by it all. Quite a lot of books, rare and ancient, were stolen, alongside all of the Glass Candles, and a few that had been in hidden vaults below the Citadel."
"Glass candles? I think only the Essosi would assign them any worth. Do you think they were the ones to arrange the theft?"
It would certainly explain things. Glass Candles were old, abominable devices from Old Valyria, which seemingly lit up in the presence of magic. The fact that they had remained unlit since the Doom was what told the Maesters that magic was fading from the world.
However, cities that were descended from Old Valyria were still interested in them, often buying them for a small fortune, which meant that the thief must have been headed to Essos.
And so, Alicent was surprised when he didn't, "That is Ormund's theory as well. I have another. I believe that this was Harry Potter's work."
Alicent gave him an incredulous look, "The sorcerer?"
"Yes. The number of stolen books meant that whoever did the deed must have had a ship ready to transport it all, and yet, no ships had left the shore that night. They stole from vaults that only Archmaesters would even have knowledge of, and they stole magical artefacts. You likely don't know that the Glass Candles have been lit for a few moons. The Maesters have attributed it to the Second Doom of Valyria and were making progress in trying to use its power. This gives us a very clear culprit, being Harry Potter."
"Father, he was on Dragonstone when we left. How could he have possibly gone to Oldtown and returned in time, especially with giant crates of books and candles?"
Her father scoffed, "The answer is evident. He hadn't even tried to hide it. He used his magic."
"Father, you cannot blame anything on a sorcerer in Dragonstone for everything. What of the riots in Oldtown, do you blame them on him as well?"
The man stopped and looked at her, likely realising that she had read the rest of the contents of the letter. It seemed like news of Daeron was the best news in the letter. Apparently, some members of the smallfolk attacked a Septon to rob him, only for the Septon to have guards and order their execution. This conflict ended with a small riot of smallfolk attacks Septons and Septas, claiming that it wasn't just that they would wear fineries and jewellery, while they starved. This ended with Ormund commanding the Hightower guards to intervene and stop the fighting, which distracted them from searching for the thieves who had robbed the Citadel.
It was, all in all, a very troublesome affair, starting with the fact that someone dared to attack a Septon, something that never truly happened, now that she thought about it. People avoided it, in fear of being cursed by the Seven or something similar, and to see it done so brazenly, worried the faithful woman immensely.
Still, there was nothing in this tragic tale that might implicate Harry Potter in any way, but her father didn't seem to agree.
Otto Hightower took a deep breath, "Alicent… I only wish that time as Queen would have made you grow, made you understand the dangers that we live in now, but it seems that you will continue to disappoint me still. The sorcerer is likely Daemon's creature, one that he had unleashed upon our family, your children, and yet, you refuse to see it."
Her father's words stung more than they should have. The sheer disappointment and urgency in his tone made her bristle, much like they did when she was but a girl. She also knew that he was wrong, that Rhaenyra and Daemon didn't seem to be on the best of terms with him.
She prepared to argue her point, but her father growled and continued, ignoring her completely, "I have spent years cementing my legacy as the greatest Hand that this realm had ever seen or would ever see. I have dealt with many political opponents, from Lords Paramount to even Daemon and Corlys Velaryon. I have made you Queen, beating any other woman in the Seven Kingdoms, and I will not be defeated by some foreign sorcerer that has half of the royal family under some sort of spell, while you stand idle."
Alicent's voice was quiet but firm. "I have not been idle."
"No?" Otto's voice sharpened. "Am I, or am I not, being dismissed as Hand. The Velaryons, who should have been preoccupied by the newfound pirate raids into the Stepstone, are quickly rising to power unseen since the days of the Great Council. I… We are losing, and it will be your children and grandchildren who will pay the price."
Alicent's hands shook slightly at the threat to her children, before closing her eyes and straightening her spine. "Then what do you intend to do about Harry Potter?"
Otto exhaled slowly, finally having relaxed at her words. "I have a few plans in place and have begun talks with the High Septon. But you needn't concern yourself with that. What you need to do, Alicent, is convince Viserys not to banish me from the Capital. I trust that you could do that, at the very least."
Alicent prepared to tell him that she had already convinced Viserys of just that, and had argued against Rhaenys for that matter, only for the man to speak over her, "We're past excuses, Alicent. You should not need me to spell out what this failure means. Your family, your children, cannot afford another failure. I know that the circumstances were beyond your control, but Viserys listened to Harry Potter's words instead of your own. You are his wife, his Queen; you should have more influence over your husband than a man on Dragonstone. It doesn't matter now; we are all in danger, and you cannot fail, not this time."
Alicent opened her mouth to speak again, but Otto only waved her off with a sharp motion. "Enough. Go. I have work to do."
She dropped her gaze at the dismissal. Her fingernails dug into her palm, wishing nothing more than to protest, but she said nothing, knowing that her father would not take kindly to her dismissal.
He was likely under a lot of pressure, trying to salvage their positions, and only wished to push her in the hopes that it would help Aegon's claim, and with it, their children.
And so, she suppressed any retort she had and only bowed her head, turned away and left the solar in silence.
The walk down the tower felt longer than before. Ser Criston trailed behind her, ever silent, but she ignored him. She said nothing to the guards. Nothing to the attendants. Nothing to the Septa who crossed herself and gave her a nod in passing.
When she finally found herself alone in the courtyard, she made her way toward one of the old fountains tucked in the corner near the gardens, away from prying eyes. It was an old spot that Rhaenyra had shown her when they were still children, when things were still simple.
She sat at the edge, skirts brushing stone, and stared down at the rippling water. She couldn't help but compare her reflection to that in the sorcerer's mirror before the conversation with her father. Alicent remembered the confident look on her face, the way the mirror had reflected the true visage of a Queen, strong, composed, and sure.
And yet now, in the water, she could only see, with her father's words still echoing in her ears, that there was no such confidence in her eyes. Just fatigue, disappointment, and something dangerously close to doubt.
The sad truth was that she didn't feel like the woman in the sorcerer's mirror, but a part of her wished that she did, that her father's words would not cut her so severely. She had done everything asked of her. She had obeyed. She had sacrificed. And still, it was never enough. It was never enough. She knew that his words were for her benefit, to help her children, but she couldn't help but feel tired of it all.
She didn't know how long she remained there, staring at her reflection, but finally, a sound broke the silence, boots on stone. She looked up and couldn't help but smile at the face that greeted her, "Hello, Aemond."
"Mother," her second son said softly, "May I sit?"
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AN: I decided to jump to this instead of staying in Oldtown, since I didn't think that there would be anything interesting in the Citadel heist, and that I could show the consequences of what happened beneath the Hightower, since Otto and Alicent would be connected to it. Essentially, I wanted to show how far-reaching Harry's actions could be. As for Alicent, I thought that writing her interaction with Otto, who was slowly spiralling down into being a conspiracy theorist, would have been fun, even if he's a bit more heavy-handed with her than I would have liked. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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If you want to support me, check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.