Chapter Text
Alicent hated being a lady. She hated being a lady in King’s Landing the most.
It was complete nonsense that her father being the Hand dictated people to treat her differently from anyone else, like a fragile little thing. She was just as capable as any of those pompous, stuck up lords and knights and a great deal smarter than a lot of them too.
She was of Old Town, she was a Hightower for Seven’s sake.
But everyone else didn’t see that, they just saw a lady and immediately dismissed her.
Other ladies in the court saw Alicent as competition. She was just one more person that they must outshine for their desired lord or knight’s attention. Sometimes they tried to talk to her, spreading rumors or their usual condescending nonsense as if she actually cares. Usually, all it took was one sentence out of Alicent Hightower’s mouth to make other ladies avoid her for the rest of the day.
Servants usually didn’t give her the time of day. To them, she was just another lady to serve after all.
The lords were the worst of them all though. Always talking down to her like she couldn’t possibly comprehend a word longer than three syllables or subtleties of finance or politics. She wasn’t a pampered lady like some others at the court, they should’ve known that by now.
She wasn’t some uneducated swamp rat.
House Hightower did not let go of its own without proper education, even if they weren’t from the main line. None could tarnish its name.
And then there were courtly things women were good for in King’s Landing: demure activities like embroidery or playing the harp, having good table manners. Being agreeable, being a broodmare for however many heirs their husband feels like having that year.
This wasn’t like this in Old Town.
And Alicent hated King’s Landing.
Although she supposed she had it better than others in this court.
No Hightower, especially Otto, would never raise incompetent children. Instead of having Maesters for their schedules, Alicent and her cousins and siblings found themselves staring down the massive doors to the Citadel, courtesy of her uncle Lord Hobert Hightower.
Alicent was the only girl of her generation in her house. Her prospects were destined to be good, despite being the daughter of a second son. So Hobert Hightower had a long conversation about this with her from an early age, after she left for King’s Landing.
“A lady deserves just as much as respect as everyone else,” her lord uncle stated firmly. “You see your peers treated differently than you, it must confuse you but no Hightower will succumb to being someone’s lesser. You being a lass doesn’t change that you’re a Hightower.”
Alicent couldn’t believe him at first. She was sure that once her father was persuaded by the other lords, she’d be treated like others at court. She expected her treatment was bound to go below once she let her guard down.
But over the years, even if she was away from her home, her uncle’s words still carried its weight.
Alicent was given her personal maesters’ from the Citadel, grace done by Hobert Hightower. Not just her, of course, her little brother Gwayne got the same opportunity. Her father Otto also gave her the option to learn more refined talents, the one that were ‘common’ for ladies in court but he never forced anything. Alicent was allowed to pursue anything that interested her, regardless of what was deemed appropriate for but at the end of the day, it was her choice.
By the time Alicent was fourteen, her elder brother Arthur and cousin Ormund had finished their schooling, got knighted and grown into two fine men just as kind and even tempered as their fathers.
Except, despite the Hightowers best efforts and the way they treated its own household, the attitudes of society around them still viewed Alicent differently from her siblings or cousin. And her prospects on marriage, for instance, were becoming a rather pressing matter.
You see, both Lord Hobert and Lord Hand Otto had the title, the wealth, the estate; they needed no acquire any of that through matchmaking. The only request they made was that the children at least try to marry someone that they would like because they wanted some grandchildren to dote upon, Lady Lynette’s words—gods save her.
Neither Hobert, Lynette, Otto nor Alyrie would not force any of their children to find a match, if they wished to end up single that was their choice, all they could ask was they put an effort to try.
Well, for Ormund, this wasn’t an issue at all since he was already married to the lovely Lady Elswyth of House Crane, who Alicent liked well enough but had to admit was rather annoying due to her naivety at times. As the eldest son, with their legacy and family lines already secured, both Otto and Hobert had most of their wishes satisfied.
Arthur wasn’t the marrying type at all and preferred flirting and dancing when it suited him, leaning more towards a single night dalliances with adventurous women. Alicent grimaced at the thought. Although she doubted he’d ever settle down, he still promised their father and uncle that he’d make an honest effort to find someone eventually.
And the next came Alicent, given that Gwayne was too young. Alicent had no intention of finding a man whatsoever—the man she saw in the court was either ugly or old or both—though like her brother, she had agreed to at least attempt to do so at some point.
Except where women were concerned, she couldn’t just put off the task for a decade or so until she felt ready like Arthur.
“As much as I hate to say it, it’s different for you,” Hobert told her one night when the Hightowers decided to visit the capital. “In the eyes of the realm, by the age of twenty five, a woman is already becoming an old maid.”
“That’s rich,” Alicent folded her arms childishly. “Considering the men looking to get married are over fourty.”
“I know. But like it or not, people don’t see it that way. As much as your father insists that you can find one match in this viper’s nest, I disagree. He might be the Hand of the King but still, he’s of my House. So he’ll listen to me in the end. If you want to have any bit of a fighting chance against those old men and their attempts around here, you’ll have to attend a ceremony of some sort in Old Town.”
Even thought of it was enough to make her grimace. “Can’t I just become a Septa and die alone?”
Amusement danced in the old man’s eyes. “Alice, if becoming a Septa is what you desire, I’ll make no attempts to stop you. But life is long and can be terribly lonely alone. I want you to be happy.”
“I’d rather die,” Alicent said with her stubborn childish tone, to which the Lord only chuckled.
“No, you wouldn’t.”
Fine, she wouldn’t. But she still hated the idea of marrying someone ugly and old all the same.
“You can come back to Old Town to attend this season,” Hobert said, standing from his chair. His voice offered no room for argument. “And every season ‘til you turn twenty. You’ll dance with each eligible suitor that asks you to dance, I’ll make sure they’re respectable of sort. After all that, if you still haven’t found someone that you wish to marry, I and others will leave you be. As we agreed, all I want you to do is try, niece.”
Alicent watched as her uncle headed for the wooden door. “I won’t find someone.”
Hobert paused in the doorway and shrugged unbothered. “That’s alright. Married or not, High Tower’s doors are always open for you. If you don’t find someone, then you don’t. But you will attend this year’s Light Ceremony to be your debut.”
And so, when the tenth month arrived, Alicent, whether she wanted to or not, became involved in the preparations for the upcoming Ceremony of Lights and made her way to the Old Town.
During this ceremony, the light facing the sea from the beacon was shifted slightly to the right, and during this time, people celebrated the arrival of autumn in the streets, while the nobility of the Reach gathered in the High Tower and celebrated it with wine.
She was poked and prodded for what felt like a decade as she was fitted for a new wardrobe by the tailor. Agreeing with his brother, the Hand spared no expense where his daughter’s appearance was concerned, commissioning hundreds of dresses, jewellery and all kinds of other necessities that women put on.
He was clever enough to choose either ivory or baby blues to represent his daughter, with his and his late wife’s house colors, as Alicent already preferred.
Her father also made her read up on all the eligible bachelors who would be attending that season, requesting his daughter to make a list of any she would like to receive an introduction to. When Alicent handed in a blank piece of paper, Otto Hightower just sighed and tucked it into his pocket, making no further comment on the matter.
But that didn’t stop him from writing to his brother back home and Hobert promised to arrange for suitable and capable men to invite Hightower’s most precious light to the dance.
And after that Otto stated the rules to his daughter one more time.
One, she must dance with every suitor that asks her at least once.
Two, she must attend every event to which she receives an invitation as long as she is not sick or indisposed.
Three, she must make an effort on her best behavior or as close as she can be to it.
Other than that, she was free to do as she wished in Old Town. Alicent could marry someone regardless of family, wealth or title. Though the last one had Otto pursing his lips.
She was fortunate, really, to be born into the family she had. She knew the other ladies would be dressed up and auctioned off to the best match that their parents could find for them without any care for their feelings on the matter.
Just like Queen Aemma, who married King Viserys when she was only 11 years old
A man left her to die to have sons he so wished.
And it didn’t make her feel any less of a neatly wrapped prize when she was ushered into the crowded courtroom for the first time in King’s Landing and the leering eyes of about a dozen men fell on her.
Alicent’s adjusting times were the absolute worst. Since she was even younger at the time and her father was Hand, she had to fend off leering men. That was at least until each actually had the pleasure of speaking with her, then their attentions were suddenly elsewhere, which was more than fine by her.
Some lords or sers were better than others, sure, but whether they were stuck up or making compliments backhandedly, it didn’t matter.
Alicent didn’t want to even breathe the same air as any of them. Especially Prince Daemon, that man was the most disgusting thing Alicent ever had the displeasure of knowing of. And thank the Seven that he didn’t like her back due to her father. Because she was pretty sure that if he had dared to speak to her, she couldn’t hold back her own vomit.
Still though, Alicent made a promise to her elders, so she gritted her teeth and put on her best smile to endure each stuck up lord with bad breath, each dance partner with wandering hands and every last pitiful attempt at small talk and humor that society dictated she indulge them in.
By the end of that feast Alicent gained a reputation for being too pious, discerning and stiff which was strong enough to repel a decent portion of suitors come feasts after.
She had no reason to expect this ceremony in Old Town to be any different than the feasts in King’s Landing.
But then again, she could’ve never expected Kieran.
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Alicent was leaning against the wall next to the drinks table at the mandatory ceremony, wishing she were sipping one of the many bottles of fine wine instead of the lemonade she held in her hand.
And the thing was, she didn’t even like wine! How was that?
She watched the various couples circling the dance floor with a deadpan expression as the music of a string quartet echoed around her from across the room.
Every feast had the same boring people and boring conversations. Alicent was sure she’d throw up if she had to listen to one more person talking about the weather. Her only consolation was the knowledge that this ceremony would be the last one of the year she’d have to endure such events.
After returning to King’s Landing, she could say goodbye to these invitations and focus on more important matters or retreat into solitude. Her father and uncle both provided her with a substantial monthly allowance; perhaps she should invest in some business opportunities.
Speaking of her father and uncle.
With her father preoccupied with his position as Hand of the King in the capital, her uncle Hobert stood beside her, sipping a glass of Arbor Gold and repeating the same speech he tried to deliver every evening with Alicent as her companion.
“Are you sure there are no men that catch your eye, dear niece?”
The niece in question scoffed. “No one who isn’t a rascal.”
“Alice,” the Lord’s voice came in a low hiss. “Not so loud. That kind of language is fine within our own walls while we’re alone but here people could talk.”
“Why, you worried that I’ll besmirch your good name?”
“Ohoho my name will be perfectly fine. It’s your prospects I’m worried about! If you keep scaring off the new suitors, how will you ever find someone to enjoy their company?”
“I suppose I won’t then,” Alicent replied, voice dripping with boredom. “What a pity.”
“Would it really be that bad to find someone you fell in love with?”
“Considering the number of men I have to go through? Probably.”
Lord Hobert looked around for a single second before he let out a sigh. “Alice, my sweet girl, I just want you to be happy–”
I want you to have a choice, before my dumb brother does something stupid—like arranging that inbred king to you.
Fucking ridiculous.
Everything he was going to say was lost when someone unfamiliar approached them.
“Pardon my interruption, my lord,” the man said in a voice as smooth as silk. “But might I trouble you for an introduction?”
Alicent turned and nearly cursed aloud.
It was a tall man with pale skin, stunning lilac eyes with wavy ash blond hair that reached his shoulders. He wore a dark purple jacket and a brighter bronze vest embroidered with star patterns. As much as Alicent hated to admit it, this man was incredibly handsome.
The handsome ones were always the worst; arrogant, preening, utterly convinced that their appearance alone could make any woman melt at their feet.
Hobert brightened at once. “Ah, young Lord Dayne, I presume. I was not aware your father wrote ahead to say you’d be visiting our city.”
“I arrived last week, my lord,” the man replied with a courteous bow. “My father is engaged in banking matters that will claim most of the year, so he charged my siblings and me with overseeing our family’s trading affairs in his stead. Seasonally, at least.”
The curious gleam in her uncle’s eyes made Alicent suddenly feel bad about this.
“Excellent,” Hobert declared. “I would be delighted to make an introduction.” He rested a proud hand on Alicent’s shoulder. “This is my niece, Alicent Hightower, our household’s only daughter. Alice, this is young Lord Kieran of House Dayne from Dorne.”
Kieran turned to her, nodded politely and offered a smile that was bright but annoyingly without arrogance.
“It is an honour to make your acquaintance, my lady.”
Alicent waited for the moment that Kieran’s eyes would leave her face and sweep over her body, inspecting his ‘would-be-conquest’ but it never came. Instead the man held her gaze until Alicent replied. “Charmed.”
If her lack of enthusiasm affected him, he gave no sign. Instead he asked, without hesitation, “Lady Alicent, might I have the honour of a dance?”
Alicent suppressed the urge to frown.
“She would be delighted,” Hobert said, nudging his niece towards the young man.
Traitorous old man.
Kieran smiled, took Alicent’s hand and led her towards the dance floor as the young girl thought of all the ways she could kill her uncle in his sleep for this.
The quartet began a gentle waltz. Kieran placed one hand at her waist; she rested her palm upon his shoulder. His other hand clasped hers with a touch that was carefully polite that it felt almost awkward.
This was going to be agonizing. She can only hope that Kieran of House Dayne was not a talker.
“Tell me, my lady–” Oh okay, here he goes. “Am I mistaken or does your expression suggest you wish to be here as little as I do?”
Alicent blinked, taken aback. She could admit that was a different approach.
In her experience, being blunt usually extinguished unwanted attention much faster, so she answered honestly. “I hate these ridiculous events.”
Kieran hummed thoughtfully. “Do you, indeed? What element offends you most? Etiquette? Forced pleasantries?”
“All of them. But especially the people who insist on speaking to me.”
“That is fair,” Kieran admitted. “Many conversations are dreadfully dull.”
“So is the company,” she added dryly.
The man chuckled, obviously not getting the hint. “Undeniably so.”
Alicent frowned, her eyes focused on his face. “If you also hate it so much, why did you approach me? You could have just left me alone for the evening. I’m sure we’d both be much happier that way.”
A playful glint touched his features. “Because, my lady, I suspected that the lady glaring daggers at the entire hall would be the most interesting person here.” He twirled her smoothly beneath his arm before resettling their hands. “And it appears I was right.”
The young woman laughed wryly. “You don’t even know me.”
“Not yet,” he agreed. “But even in less than a minute, you have shown remarkable character. A prickly sort, perhaps but character nonetheless.”
Yes. A character that would otherwise have driven any other man away. Yet Kieran Dayne remained, as persistent as a cockroach. Perhaps he was too stupid to notice when he wasn’t wanted.
“Ah, you noticed,” Alicent grumbled. “I thought you were slow of understanding.”
The young man paused, the corner of his mouth twitching and Alicent thought, this was where he’ll show his true colors. No man could tolerate insults. But then this fool grinned—grinned!—and replied, “You have a remarkably sharp mind, Lady Alicent.”
Alicent raised an eyebrow defiantly. “For a lady?”
“For anyone.”
Compliments will take you nowhere. “And you have an incredibly persistent nature.”
Kieran smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t.”
“I’ll continue to take it that way, no matter what.”
Who did this man think he was?
Alicent glared at him. “Are you really that hungry for praise that you’re willing to find it where there isn’t any?”
“Are you so desperate for solitude that you’ll verbally rebuff any lord who pays you a compliment?” Kieran retorted.
“I am,” she said without hesitation. “I have no desire for a husband. I find men like you insufferable.”
“My Gods, a sharp wit accompanied by a sharp tongue! I find your obvious disdain for me refreshing.” As the dance drew to an end, Kieran paused to bow to the lady. “Thank you for such a welcome respite from the usual tedium of these events. I enjoyed it very much.” He bowed his head and gave her a dazzling smile. “Until we meet again, my lady.”
And with that, Kieran Dayne was gone, leaving Alicent confused, bewildered, and, for the first time in her life, at a loss for words.
What in the Seven Hells had just happened?
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“Who was he?” Alicent asked her uncle as they boarded the carriage. “And how do you know him?”
Lord Hightower raised his eyebrows at his nephew. “Young Lord Dayne? His father, Kyren, is the lord of House Dayne; your father, he and I grew up together, so to speak. For centuries they have been our loyal trading partners, regardless of our kingdoms.”
“So his father was one of your old friends, is that it?” Alicent asked. “Why haven’t I heard of them until now?”
“We normally had monthly meetings, but based on the closeness between us, we realized nearly two decades ago that communicating with the raven was enough for us to reach an agreement,” Hobert explained. “It was shortly after you were born, actually. So you never had the chance to meet any of them.” He shook his head. “It’s a shame, really. His children are about the same age as you and your siblings. It would have been nice to have a few friends of equal standing and quality around you growing up.”
Huh. Well, that explained it.
“I’m glad his son’s back, at least,” the Lord continued. “It’ll be nice to reconnect with my old friend, even if it’s through his son.”
“Hmm.”
“And his son, Kieran, would be a perfect match for you, Alicent. He seems to have made quite an impression at the feast.”
Oh, he certainly did. But it was doubtful Alicent gave the impression her uncle had suggested it.
“And what makes you think that?” Alicent asked, trying to appear uninterested, looking out the carriage window.
“It’s simple. He’s the first suitor you’ve ever asked!”
The girl turned quickly. “It’s not... Like that! He’s just annoying, that’s all. Impressively annoying.”
The Lord shrugged. “If you say so.”
That’s exactly what she said. She really did say so. A man hadn’t been able to get on Alicent’s nerves in a long time. That was the only reason Kieran had gotten her so worked up.
This was the only reason.
Gods be good.
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The next morning, as a pale beam of sunlight crept across the solar floor, Alicent sat curled in her chair with a book in hand. Peace, precious and fragile that it was, lay over the room like a thin veil.
Naturally, it did not last.
A soft knock preceded her uncle’s head poking through the doorway. “Alice, get dressed and go to the solar room,” Hobert announced, as if stating the weather for today. “It appears you have a visitor.”
The last time Alicent had a gentleman visitor was during her second year in King’s Landing.
This was before she had earned a reputation for being pious, spiteful and indifferent and while she did her best to ward off any ambitious men she might encounter at social gatherings; her substantial dowry, her last name and her father’s title were too tempting for some to ignore.
Even if any of these so called gentlemen came to visit her in the morning, Alicent would usually make sure they never came again.
This, of course, deeply bothered her father at the time but whether he liked it or not, they had an agreement that meant Alicent was not obligated to entertain these men after even a single dance.
She’d believed her message unmistakably clear. So why, all Seven damnations, was someone here now? Though deep down, she suspected she knew who he was.
Her suspicion was proven correct when she entered the morning room to find Kieran Dayne waiting for her.
“You,” Alicent said, her voice thick with accusation.
The young man only smiled pleasantly in return. “Me,” he said, simply bowing his head toward Alicent. “Good morrow, my lady.”
“Young Lord Dayne. Have you come to see me again?”
“Actually,” he said lightly, “I was hoping for a cup of tea.”
“Oh well.” Her lips thinned. “Only because courtesy obliges me to indulge you.”
Something bright flickered in Kieran’s pale violet eyes. “Do the rules of hosting also oblige you to be kind to me?”
“There is no rule in existence that could compel that,” she muttered.
“Splendid! I would hate to come all this way only to be disappointed.”
Behind them, Ormund’s wife Elswyth choked on a laugh so violently she nearly stabbed her embroidery hoop. Alicent shot the woman a lethal look; Elswyth immediately bent over her work, pretended intense devotion to her needle.
Gods be good, Elswyth.
Alicent knew asking her to be her companion would involve this nonsense. Still, at least it would be less ridiculous than it would have been if it had been one of her brothers. Or her uncle. Seven Hells.
She ordered the servants to bring in tea and cake and five minutes later, she looked at her reflection in her teacup, avoiding eye contact with Kieran Dayne’s stupidly handsome face.
Neither of them had said anything yet and Alicent began to wonder if Lord Dayne was simply trying to torture her by exploiting her incompetence.
When they’d met the night before, Alicent hadn’t been able to detect the other man’s odor in the stifling atmosphere of the ceremony hall. But now, alone, she could detect the faintest hint of a wave of fragrance wafting across the table.
Dates and grapes were a remarkably calming scent for a man.
To mask their foul odor, men usually carried a thick, musky scent that clogged Alicent’s breath and coated her palate and tongue. But Lord Dayne’s fragrance was actually quite pleasant and for some reason, it made the restless pit in Alicent’s stomach dance with butterfly wings.
Thankfully, the young man chose to clear his throat and Alicent was spared the meaning of her thoughts. She lifted her gaze from her teacup.
“I hear you’re trained to a maester’s level, Lady Alicent. That’s quite unusual for a lady.”
“Because we’re not intelligent enough to express our thoughts or ideas, are we?” Alicent challenged, frowning, her irritated expression evident.
“Oh, please,” Kieran said, brushing a crumb from his lap. “We both know that’s not quite true. You seem to have nothing but opinions. An endless supply, in fact! I simply didn’t know the Citadel admitted ladies.”
“They don’t,” Alicent huffed. “The archmaesters’ insisted that a woman would be a distraction. So my father and uncle hired maesters to tutor me privately in exchange for House Hightower not cutting their subsidies.”
Kieran hummed, taking a sip from his teacup. “This is truly a shame. I have no doubt that a clever woman like you would excel in her studies.”
Alicent knew it was all talk but a small part of her was flattered. If she was given the opportunity, she would have excelled even more. She’d probably also earn a reputation for being smarter than Ormund or Arthur.
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Alicent teased the young lord.
Kieran shrugged. “I’m only speaking truth. And I believe every realm would prosper with more educated ladies.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Actually, I do mean that. I have a younger sister and she has an incredibly intelligent mind. My father and I have been looking for someone to tutor her all over Starfall and Dorne but so far we’ve come up empty handed. I want to know more about your tutoring, perhaps that would be the best way for her.”
Alicent stared blankly at him and nearly dropped her teacup. Of all the places this conversation was going, it certainly wasn’t that. “I suppose I could tell you about it.”
“Wonderful,” he said, smiling with unfair sincerity. “I would like to hear everything.”
And so she told him.
She told Kieran about the maesters her father and uncle had hired from the Citadel, how she’d been forced to study accounts to assess her very little inheritance if she stayed single but how she’d greatly favored the sciences—even briefly mentioning her own personal interest in Lady Patrice’s alchemical experiments and artistic pursuits—and to her surprise, he listened.
He truly did.
Of course, anyone could have just sat there and nodded but Kieran Dayne seemed genuinely interested in what Alicent was saying, occasionally adding his own comments and questions, which encouraged her to expand on her interests.
And when Alicent lapsed into more colorful language or tested the young lord’s pulse with near-insults, his calm, composed demeanor never wavered. He even seemed to find Alicent’s phrasing amusing, sometimes responding with his own words which left Alicent barely knowing what to say.
This was truly extraordinary; that was the whole point. And about halfway through, Alicent realized this was the first intelligent conversation she ever had with a man outside her family and contrary to expectations, she hadn’t found herself hating it.
In fact, she hadn’t even realized how much time had passed before a pot of tea had been finished between them.
“You know,” Kieran said, setting his teacup aside. “Your expression doesn’t seem as venomous as it did when I arrived. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were having a good time.”
Alicent felt her ears turn red with embarrassment as she realized she was almost smiling and she turned away. “Yeah, I guess your presence isn’t as torturous as I first perceived.”
The young man placed his hand over his heart in mock surprise. “Lady Alicent, was that one of your signature, almost compliments?”
Yes. No. Maybe. Seven save me. “Don’t let it inflate your ego.”
“Ah, it’s too late for that,” Kieran explained, rising from his chair. “But I’m afraid I must go. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed being with you today. I hope we’ll have another opportunity soon.”
Alicent folded her arms in front of her, refusing to meet his gaze or witness that magnificent smile. “Don’t get ahead of yourself either,” she said.
“We’ll see about that. Good day, my lady.”
“Good day, my lord.”
And with that, Kieran bid her farewell.
When the front door shut with a soft thud, Elswyth rose from her embroidery frame, smoothing her skirts as she crossed the room with deliberate, far-too-knowing steps.
The grin on her face was radiant enough to stop Alicent mid-breath, because it was the kind that promised relentless teasing.
Before the lady could open her mouth, Alicent lifted a hand like a warding sigil. “Please don’t. I shall endure enough torment from Ormund and Arthur at supper as it is.”
Elswyth held up her hands in surrender. “I was just about to say he’s a good man.”
“Yes,” Alicent muttered darkly, brushing a stray curl from her face. “I am certain that is precisely what everyone will tell me.”
“And I’ve never seen someone react so well to your personality before. He’s different.”
“That is one way to phrase it,” Alicent replied dryly.
“So you see,” Elswyth went on, smile widening. “He might, someday, prove to be a very suitable match-”
“That is quite enough,” Alicent cut in sharply, spinning on her heel before the woman could utter another blessed word. “I am going to my room. Do not follow me.”
Elswyth only laughed softly into her sleeve as Alicent marched away, skirts fluttering like a banner of retreat and defiance.
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“Alicent had a suitor today,” Hobert declared far too casually for the destruction he was about to unleash, nearly making his niece choke on her soup.
The clatter of her spoon against the bowl drew every eye to her at once. Arthur and Ormund exchanged a glance that promised nothing but trouble; any fleeting sympathy vanished the moment curiosity struck.
“Truly?” Arthur drawled, turning toward his sister with a grin that usually preceded some form of torment. “I thought you’d frightened off all the eligible bachelors, Alice.”
“So did I,” Ormund added, leaning in with theatrical intrigue. “Come then, cousin, what fearless soul has dared present himself before you this time?”
Alicent opened her mouth, ready to cut him down but Hobert spoke faster. “Kieran Dayne.”
“A Dayne,” Arthur repeated, brows rising. “I don’t think I know him.”
“Lord Kyren’s eldest son. You met him when you were five or so but only briefly. I’m not surprised you don’t remember.”
“I think I do,” Ormund hummed thoughtfully. “Ashy blond hair, pale purple eyes, scrawny legs?”
“Yes, that must be him. Although it seems he’s grown out of those legs in the last twenty years. He’s become quite a gentle and respectable young man.”
Arthur waggled his brows at Alicent suggestively from across the table and she tightened her grip, resisting the urge to throw her fork. “So, did this morning’s meeting end with the usual events?” her brother asked.
“If you’re asking whether I told him to get lost, the answer is yes,” Alicent huffed. “But it didn’t do much good.”
“Remarkable,” Arthur mused. “A man unbothered by my sister’s temper. A true rarity. And the solar remains intact as well?”
Ormund barked out a laugh. “And Lord Dayne, for that matter. Gods, Alicent, remember that suitor who wouldn’t give up? Didn’t you throw a teapot at his head?”
“It was a teacup,” Alicent corrected. “And there wasn’t even any tea in it. He was fine.”
“I, for one, am relieved you showed better restraint with my friend’s son,” Hobert said, patting his lips with his napkin.
“On the contrary-” Alicent braced herself as Elswyth, who hadn’t yet joined the conversation, leaned forward in her chair. “Our sweet Alice was very polite by her standards, I mean! The two of them seemed to be having a pretty good time.”
“Els,” she hissed warningly.
The other woman looked at her innocently. “What? You had a good time, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t. It was just–Bearable.”
Elswyth grinned triumphantly as Ormund nudged her with equal delight. “‘Bearable’ she says. That is practically a declaration of affection from her.”
“I’m happy for you, Ali,” Arthur added.
Alicent grumbled. “Can we please stop talking about my suitors? I’d prefer anything, literally anything! I’ll even listen to Elswyth talk about her new imported swans.”
“And how lovely they are!” Lady Elswyth nee Crane exclaimed excitedly and thankfully the conversation drifted to her.
Alicent turned her attention back to her meal. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could be excused and avoid any potential conversational pitfalls.
It had been nothing more than a morning meeting, she told herself. There was no reason for her entire family to act as if the Seven had sent down a miracle.
And she was quite certain it would not happen again.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
The next day, a bouquet of white oleanders was delivered to House Hightower. With it, there was a note with Alicent’s name, written in cursive handwriting:
To Lady Alicent,
White oleanders are a peculiar flower, both elegant and poisonous.
I think a woman of similar qualities would find it as delightful as I do.
I hope we meet again soon,
Sincerely,
Kieran Dayne
As soon as Alicent finished reading the note, she crumpled it in her fist and held it tightly to her chest as she tried to catch her breath. The muffins she’d eaten for breakfast suddenly settled in her stomach, causing her face to heat up.
Her face heated even more when she realized the faintest trace of the grape fragrance on the paper.
Could Kieran Dayne really be serious about courting her? She was so determined to reject all men that she was completely unprepared for what she might do if someone truly loved her.
Gods, this was turning into a disaster.
Pious, reserved, cold Alicent couldn’t be wooed.
Then people would begin to see her as they did others in her position: nothing more than an eager, naive young girl, eager for any attention a suitable man could give them. And if she truly shared young Lord Dayne’s feelings, wouldn’t that make her exactly what she was told she was?
Worse still, Lord Dayne’s actions might signal to others that Alicent was still a viable candidate, a notion she had worked so hard to extinguish in recent years.
No, no.
The young man had simply caught her off guard, that was all. She was simply feeling uneasy and these feelings would soon pass. Next time, Alicent just needed to try a little harder to intimidate him and this whole situation would be resolved.
She had to.
When Alicent managed to pull herself together, she quickly carried both the flowers and the note to her room and placed them on the table in the far corner of the room. She spent the rest of the day glaring at them whenever they came into her sight.
However, even though she tried to look glum, she had to admit the flowers were beautiful.
⋆✴︎˚｡⋆
“Why do I need to go with you?” Alicent asked, scanning the countless paintings lining the walls of the opera house entrance.
She would have much preferred to be at home working on her latest readings but here she was, dressed in ruffles and silks, on her uncle’s arm, about to embark on a pastime she hadn’t enjoyed at all.
“Because Ormund and Elswyth are dining with her family, Arthur is still getting over the aftermath of last night’s drinking and I wanted company,” Hobert replied calmly. “And you couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse, so here you are.”
Here I am, Alicent thought dryly, the objections her uncle had previously silenced with the terrifying fatherly look he’d given her.
“Besides, you haven’t been out since the ceremony two weeks ago and you’ve been locked in your room for the last five days! A change of scenery would do you good, niece. Come, let’s go to our box immediately.”
Just as the two were about to go upstairs, a voice came from the corridor.
“Hobert, you old man, is that you?”
An old man with graying hair approached them, grinning from ear to ear. Alicent didn’t recognize him but her uncle obviously did, because the same smile appeared on his face and he whisked Alicent toward the stranger. “Kyren! I heard from your son that you were busy, and I doubted you’d accept my invitation. It’s wonderful to see you, old friend.”
Ah. So this must be Kieran’s father, and his uncle’s old friend from his youth. That explained it.
“Yes,” Kyren said, nodding. “We’ll have to make time to get reacquainted!”
“I would very much like that,” Hobert replied, then nudged Alicent forward. “Let me introduce you to my niece, Alicent, the only lady of our family.”
The Starfall Lord bowed his head to Alicent. “Lady Alicent.”
“My lord, you honor Old Town with your presence.”
“It gladdens me greatly to at last behold you in person, my lady,” Lord Kyren said with a courtly smile. “My son has spoken a great many words of you.”
For the space of a heartbeat, Alicent felt as though a carriage had struck her square in the chest. “Did he now?”
“All in your favor, I swear it, my dear,” Lord Kyren replied warmly. “And a most fortuitous happenstance it is, that he and my other children shall grace the opera this very eve—an outing to which I have been most graciously bidden by a dear companion of mine.”
Ah. Ah, no. The redhead could see where this was going.
“I would gladly join you, yet the voyage from Starfall has left us rather weary. If I may rely on our growing acquaintance, might I persuade the two of you to join us in our box instead?”
Alicent’s gaze drifted to her uncle briefly, beseeching the faintest plea for him to spare her the inevitable. If the message reached him, Hobert Hightower gave no sign of it.
Either he had not understood, or he had chosen to ignore the tremor beneath her composure. Smiling broadly at his old companion, he replied: “We would be delighted to join you.”
“Excellent,” said Lord Kyren warmly. “Our lodge lies just there, beyond the carved balustrade.”
When they approached, five figures rose to greet them. Alicent immediately recognized Kieran but beside him stood three brothers who varied in height and resemblance and the sister he had spoken of, all gathered in polite expectancy as their guests were shown in.
“Lord Hobert and Lady Alicent shall be joining our lodge this eve,” Lord Kyren declared with genial pride as he guided them inside. “Allow me to present my children. Kieran, you recall him, I trust.”
The young man offered Alicent a warm, hopeful smile but she found sudden fascination in a carved motif on the wall and promptly averted her gaze, feigning interest in its etched florals rather than in him.
“And these,” Kyren continued, “are Kyson, Keaton, Kiyan, and Kayra.”
The pattern in their names was so blatant it nearly drew a wry smile from her, but she held her composure.
One by one, the Dayne siblings bowed or curtsied with impeccable manners before taking their places. Hobert settled comfortably beside Kyren in the foremost row, while the younger Daynes filled the middle, leaving only the backmost seats free, specifically the one beside Kieran.
He gestured to the cushion with an earnest, almost boyish eagerness. “My lady,” he murmured, tapping the seat lightly.
With little choice and even less enthusiasm, Alicent lowered herself beside him, smoothing her skirts with studied calm.
“It gladdens me to behold you again, Lady Alicent,” Kieran said in a lowered voice meant only for her. “Tell me, did you contrive some pretext merely to cross paths with me once more? Should you have wished to continue our conversation from last week, you need only have asked!”
“You know full well that is not the case,” Alicent snapped under her breath, her eyes fixed on the opera glasses in her hands as if the brass and glass might save her. “My uncle insisted I accompany him.”
At that, Kieran’s expression brightened further astonishingly, as though the candlelight itself favored him. “Truly? Then it seems fate has a peculiar sense of humor. My father is the same. He adores the opera, though I confess, I can scarce endure it. Yet he swears we must attend as a family in these busy times. I fear he will drag me here every week, now that I reside in your beautiful homeland for the season.”
Alicent huffed a humorless, quiet exhale. “My uncle drags me here every week, whenever I am in the city myself.”
“I suppose,” Kieran leaned in just slightly, not enough to be improper but enough that she felt the warmth of his nearness. “That if such were truly the case, if it granted me the pleasure of your company, this whole ordeal would be far easier to endure.”
Alicent rolled her eyes, the motion sharp yet elegant. “I am already seated beside you. Is that not sufficient? Pray, do not test your fortune.”
“I would not dare, my lady.” His smile broadened with a warmth she refused to acknowledge. “I trust you received the bouquet I sent. Tell me, did the flowers please you?”
“They did,” Alicent replied coolly, smoothing her skirts with an affected detachment. “Yet do not imagine you can sway me with trinkets or finery, my lord. I am not so easily bought.”
“So,” he said softly. “You confess you found them fair.”
Yes. Finer than she had expected, in truth.
They remained upon her table even now, resting in a crystal vase so they might last another week. Not for the sender’s sake, of course. They merely lent some much needed grace to her chambers. Nothing more.
“They were sufficient,” she said.
“Then I must consider a far grander gesture next time,” he teased lightly.
Alicent folded her arms and turned her face away from him. “I desire nothing from you.”
He chuckled under his breath. “If my gifts offend you so greatly, perhaps you might tear a few leaves from the bouquet and steep them in my tea the next time I visit.”
“If you try my patience any further,” she hissed. “I just might.”
Kieran offered no rebuttal but only a mischievous grin and a deferential nod, as though her barbs delighted him rather than deterred him.
Either he had been dropped upon his head as an infant or he was simply a fool who found her irritation charming.
Silence settled between them at last as the opera began, the hall dimming, the first notes rising like smoke into the vaulted air.
Tonight’s performance was a musical tragedy in the Rhoynish style, one of those somber and elaborate productions, filled with eerie violas, masked dancers, and long, poetic laments sung in the melodic accents.
Every character, without exception, was doomed to die in the final act, often in a needlessly drawn-out, beautifully choreographed manner.
It should have been captivating. And perhaps it would have been, had she not been seated painfully close to Kieran Dayne.
The young girl was jolted out of his daze when Kieran leaned in, his lips inches from her ear, and whispered, “Tell me, my lady, do you know what is happening at this very moment?”
Alicent jumped, blinking hard as her brief daze shattered. “Wh-what?”
“The play,” he murmured, tilting his head toward the stage. The lead actress was now performing an impassioned aria, surrounded by shimmering blue silks meant to resemble waves. “What, precisely, is occurring? I confess I am utterly lost.”
“You don’t know Rhoynish?” Alicent whispered back.
“Oh, allegedly I do,” he replied, his face the picture of innocence. “As I allegedly know half a dozen other tongues. Yet none of them seem willing to stay put inside my head. And certainly not when someone insists on singing them.”
Alicent sighed, then pointed toward the stage, her voice soft so as not to earn a rebuke from the ushers. “The lady has been forsaken by her lover. She is singing a lament whilst drowning herself.”
Kieran squinted. “She is drowning herself while singing?”
“That is what the performance suggests, yes.”
He studied the stage another moment, brow furrowing in deep, theatrical contemplation.
“That makes no sense. If she is singing, she is not drowning. If she is drowning, she should not be singing. Has no one informed the playwright of this?”
“You wish to hear something that truly defies all logic?” Alicent murmured back, lowering her voice but not her indignation. “Last year, my father took my little brother and I to a play in King’s Landing. The heroine was suffocated with a pillow by her husband, yet between the moment the pillow touched her face and her supposed death, she somehow managed to gasp out half a paragraph. As if she had suddenly acquired extra breath while being murdered.”
Kieran’s eyes lit with immediate outrage. “Yes! Gods, yes, that very thing irritated me as well when my father dragged me to the same play when they took stage in Starfall. And what’s worse is that she insisted afterward that she suffocated herself. One cannot suffocate oneself! It is physically impossible!”
The young man bit back a laugh, then leaned in, delighted. “Utter nonsense. The playwrights must think their audiences are half witted or moonstruck.”
Alicent chuckled softly, it was unwilling but unmistakably genuine.
“Alice.”
The hissed reprimand snapped through the row like a whip. Her uncle’s face appeared between the seats as stern as a septon’s glare. His finger pressed to his lips with all the force of a man who feared divine punishment for public embarrassment. Several opera-goers turned and glared as well.
Seven hells. Alicent’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t realized how loud they’d grown.
“I apologize, uncle,” she murmured quickly.
Kieran bowed his head as well, voice contrite despite the laughter still dancing in his eyes. “My sincerest apologies, my lord.”
With that, they fell into obedient silence.
After the performance concluded, Kieran sought her out amidst the throng in the lobby. “Might I visit you on the morrow, Lady Alicent?”
She regarded him from head to toe, still baffled by the steadiness of his interest. No one had ever pursued her with such persistence. Not because she was unwanted but because she had never granted anyone the room to try.
A soft sigh escaped her as she tilted her head, an eyebrow arching in dry challenge. “Would it truly change anything were I to refuse you?”
Kieran blinked, taken aback and for the first time she saw a crack in that calm, sun warmed composure of his. “Aye,” he answered plain and earnestly, far more earnestly than she expected. He stepped nearer though not so near as to overstep and held her gaze with startling steadiness.
“I would not bring you discomfort,” he said quietly. “If my attentions have troubled you, I beg your pardon. My regard for you is sincere, my lady. But if my presence vexes you in truth, say the word now and I shall trouble you no further.”
“You-” Alicent faltered.
No man beyond her blood had ever spoken to her so. In her past, suitors saw her as a piece to claim, a prize to parade, something to grasp rather than someone to understand. Whether she felt uneasy or cornered had never mattered to them. They pressed and pressed and pressed until she was forced to drive them off with barbed words meant to wound.
But Kieran did not press.
Alicent studied his face, searching for any flicker of falsehood, any hint of the familiar entitlement she so despised, yet she found none. “You truly mean it,” she breathed at last, her voice quiet with disbelief. “Do you not?”
Kieran’s gaze did not waver from her as steady as a vow. “I swear it upon my life,” he murmured. “Until now, I had thought your indifference was nothing but a quirk of your spirited nature. Yet if I have been placing my attentions where they are unwelcome, then I beg your pardon and I shall trouble you no more.”
Alicent held her silence for a while, the weight of his words settling over her like a slow-falling veil. When she finally spoke, her voice was quieter, gentler, touched by something almost fragile. “I-I confess, my difficulty was not without the intent of making you leave.”
The young man’s face fell at once, the light dimming from his features.
“But,” she continued. “I believed you to be no different from the others who sought to court me. And yet, throughout our meetings I have found your company to be-” she hesitated, searching for the right shape of the feeling. “In rare accord with my own. If you wish to call upon me on the morrow, I would not oppose it.”
A slow, dawning smile curved the young lord’s lips, warm and triumphant. “Then you are saying,” he murmured. “That I have at last worn down your thorns?”
Alicent shot him a sharp look, though the faintest trace of amusement softened its edge. “Please, do not mistake me, my lord. If you wish to win my affections, you must earn my affection. I will settle for nothing less.”
“As you must,” Kieran replied, inclining his head solemnly. “Very well, Lady Alicent. I vow I shall claim your heart.”
A genuine small smile tugged at her lips. “We shall see.”
“And one more thing,” he said, voice lowering with a boldness he barely dared hold. “If I am to woo you, then you must call me Kieran.”
“Very well, Kieran,” Alicent answered, turning on her heel with quiet grace to go to her place besides her uncle waiting for her. “I shall see you on the morrow.”
“May I call you by your given name?” he called after her, hope threading through his every word.
Alicent paused, glancing back over her shoulder, the lamplight catching the faint mischief in her eyes.
“Let us see how you fare on the morrow,” she said softly. “Then, perhaps, I shall consider it.”