Chapter Text
Two is for discipline, heedless of trial;
Three for the gleam of a jewel or a smile;
Four for fidelity, facing ahead;
Five for tradition and debts to the dead;
Six for the truth over solace in lies;
Seven for beauty that blossoms and dies;
Eight for salvation no matter the cost;
Nine for the Tomb, and for all that was lost.
- Tamsyn Muir, Gideon the Ninth
Alicent had never left the Ninth House before. She looked out at the void of space unblinkingly, as if to turn away would mean the shuttle ferrying them through the stars would be cast asunder into nothingness. As if the moment she diverted her attention even briefly, the Emperor would appear instantly and smite her for attempting to reach so far beyond her grasp. Alicent felt the emptiness deep within her, down to her bones, as any decent necromancer would so far from the decay and waste constantly beneath one’s feet on a living—and therefore dying—planet.
She was being foolish. Alicent was being foolish and surprisingly selfish for one who had determined long ago never to stray from the path laid before her. She heard Their voices constantly, though, and Their wants and needs had suffused into her, consuming her. Therefore, into the dark she went.
It was a different kind of darkness than Alicent was used to, though. Back in the Ninth House, Dominicus’ light rarely touched them, pulled so far from its grasp as they were. Here, she could see the glow of the stars more clearly. She was completely untethered, completely exposed to the will of the universe with just a metal bubble protecting her from nothingness, but the experience felt almost heavenly.
Of course, this brief awakening of her soul was immediately interrupted by an agitating, grating voice. “Should be at the temple of the First House soon. Maybe we could even get there and back home before your Reverend Father notices us gone?” Criston said, hopefully. Alicent turned to shoot him a glare. Criston knew as well as she that her father would have divined her flight from the Ninth near instantly, though she hoped he wouldn’t be capable of guessing her destination.
Alicent ignored the second half and asked, “How soon?”
As she spoke, the shuttle turned slightly, and from the corner of her eye, she saw a light appear through the shuttle's plexiform window. Looking toward it instinctually, an unfathomably large blue ball suspended in the void entered her view, the glow of Dominicus shining off it lovingly. It was unbelievably beautiful. It was frightening. She was struck dumb.
Alicent did not look but felt Criston exude how idiotically pleased with himself he was as if he had placed the planet in the sky for her, as if he had anything to do with anything. She shook her thoughts away. He was her cavalier, his purpose would come into play if there was anything—or anybody—to run through with his rapier. It's always handy to have someone who would die and kill for you without hesitation by your side, even if talking to them is akin to giving up on the concept of good companionship or humor.
“What is it we’re looking for anyway? I want to sneak in and grab it before anyone notices we’re there, if possible.” Still without glancing, she knew Criston looked at her beseechingly. Alicent sighed. Her fingers longed to find the warm, wet comfort of her mouth and the sharp release of her teeth digging in, but she settled herself with her seven-pointed necklace instead.
“It will take however long it takes,” Alicent said simply. “Longer than you appear to think it will, certainly.”
He seemed to finally read her mood correctly, or perhaps he could not think of a response, because he finally fell blessedly silent.
It took somehow both more and less time than she had expected for them to pierce through the atmosphere and make their way toward the surface of the First House. Alicent spent the time rubbing her thumb over the sharp points of her necklace with such force she nearly drew blood even without her teeth. It was grounding for her as water, more water than Alicent had ever seen in her life, came into focus.
With it came an overwhelming wave of energy; Alicent felt her knees buckle and moved to sit before Criston Cole did something foolish like touch her. An incomprehensible, innumerable amount of people had died here. Being hit with that much power and despair after a whole flight of nothing was a relief and staggering, not even to mention the now blinding light.
Willing her cavalier to remain silent, Alicent screwed her eyes shut and blindly reached to pull her veil over her face. While she regularly forewent the skull paint typical of her status as Reverend Daughter, she still cloaked herself in the usual green vestments. Soundlessly mouthing, Alicent tucked her necklace under her neckline and prayed.
Alicent felt the force of the shuttle landing shutter through her body. She jumped when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. Mouth thin, she looked up at Criston, and he quickly removed it before gesturing to where the shuttle hatch had begun to open. Grimacing, Alicent took Criston’s hand long enough to pull herself up from where she was sitting then dropped it immediately. She strode toward the opening.
“Now we just have to sneak in and sneak out,” Criston said with a forced cheerful tone, hand on the pommel of his sword. They blinked the glaring light out of their eyes, and Alicent saw a woman standing with her arms crossed and her head cocked at the end of the gangplank. “Oh.”
The woman’s eyebrows raised as she very obviously took them in from head to toe. Alicent wondered exactly what she was seeing, how much was exposed to that probing gaze. Inversely, Alicent felt her eyebrows furrow as she did the same. The woman was clearly Third with intricate braids woven into her spun-silver hair, her elegant necro cape embroidered with gold floss that matched the gold of the rings on nearly every finger, and those eyes, that ethereal beauty. Yes, Alicent thought with scorn, certainly from the Third House. Which begs the question: what was the Third doing in the First House?
“I wasn’t expecting any visitors,” the woman broke the confrontational silence with a deeply neutral expression. “Do you have the clearance to be here in the Emperor’s own House?”
Alicent should play this smart. She should say something so clever that this woman immediately steps aside and allows Alicent to do what she came here to do. She should– “Do you?” All three of them froze. Alicent saw Criston’s hand tighten on the hilt of his weapon out of the corner of her eye.
After an eternity, the woman’s face relaxed faintly, and she huffed out a short laugh. “No.”
Criston let his guard down immediately like a simpleton. Alicent refused to do the same. Of course the person blocking their path would be gorgeous in an effervescent way that simply does not flourish in the Ninth. Their defenses were not prepared for it.
“Where’s your cavalier?” Alicent asks, descending while ever so casually fiddling with the bony rings on her fingers. Alicent saw the Third notice this and understand it as the threat it was. A Ninth House necromancer was at their most dangerous with skeletal remains at their fingertips. This entire planet seemed to be skeletal remains.
Alicent felt an infantile wave of petulance as she realized the Third was ever so slightly taller than her.
The woman raised one of her elegant hands toward her mouth while the other sneaked under her cape at the waist. It was likely she was readying some absolutely disgusting flesh magic like all the rest of the freakish Third House. Bones were far more elegant. Still, the Third spoke before any damage was dealt. “It seems we’re in a similar situation, Ninth. I imagine we’re here for the same thing; there’s no other reason to come to this place. Maybe we can help each other.”
Alicent scoffed. “The only reason you’re offering is because you’ve gotten caught by my cavalier and myself all alone.” Alicent sent a prayer to the Tomb that her cavalier had put away the dopey grin he’d adopted at the silk of the woman’s voice. They needed to look tough. The Ninth House was not to be trifled with despite its declining status. She sent a sharp look his way, and, thankfully, he read it correctly and pulled himself together.
“‘Caught’? Come on, what exactly do you plan to do to me? Grab me and haul me to a cell? Throw me into the ocean? I assure you it wouldn’t be as easy as that, and it would be an entirely pointless fight,” the woman said.
Alicent thought. She looked pointedly at the woman’s hand now resting against her lips. Alicent did not look at her lips. The Third caught the gaze and, after a beat, slowly lowered her hand and, therefore, her defenses.
Alicent nodded once at Criston, and he relaxed his battle-ready stance.
The woman continued to stare, and filled with a childish annoyance Alicent had never felt as a child, she sighed and stopped threateningly spinning her bone rings. The Third smiled wide, and it invoked the same awe and horror that landing here and being bathed in this new light had created. Dimples, Alicent noted and felt it like a slap to the face. She has dimples. She turned away.
She had never seen so many shades of blue in her life: the sky was vibrant and had fluffy white wisps dotting it with Dominicus filtering through, and there was water on all sides of the rusted metal landing strip with waves making it look like a living creature reaching for them. Even the eyes of the woman still staring at her like she was liable to reach into Alicent’s brain and steal her thoughts were blue.
With her gaze diverted, Alicent noticed the building before them was all beautiful white marble glistening radiantly, towers, and gardens, and it looked moments away from crumbling into the encroaching water. Vines crept over the stone, delving into every break and carelessly damaging everything further. It seemed this temple was all that truly remained; Alicent could see the grey, metal tops of buildings protruding from the water that had met a more cruel fate. Or less, depending. A quick death or one quietly stretching a myriad, which was kinder?
“I’m Rhaenyra.” Rhaenyra seemed to be attempting to catch Alicent’s gaze again. She did not look. “Since we’re all such good friends now.”
Criston butt in, “I’m Ser Criston Cole, and this is the Reverend Daughter Alicent Hightower. Both Ninth.”
Alicent had found herself on a damp, decaying planet with the two most annoying people perhaps ever dreamed up.
“Yes, naturally.” Alicent could feel Rhaenyra’s eyes on her dour green robes, on the veil covering her face. Every inch of skin covered except her hands. She wished suddenly for the added protection of gloves and the skull facepaint, a mask she customarily quite disdained.
“And your last name? As my cav so thoughtfully offered ours up?” Alicent looked sharply at Rhaenyra, then. She refused to glare at her cavalier in front of the Third, but she hoped he felt the admonition regardless.
“Targaryen,” Rhaenyra said, self-satisfied as she watched Alicent’s face for a reaction. Alicent felt slightly hunted under the consuming eyes.
The Third’s Delight. The Princess of Westeros. The richest and most spoiled woman in the Dominicus. Lovely.
A smug laugh left Rhaenyra.
The woman reached a bejeweled hand out—Alicent just looked at it—and said, “Now that that unpleasantness is behind us, would you like to see the man I’ve grabbed and thrown into a cell?”
The Princess rambled the whole way as she led the pair through the ruins. Instead of listening, Alicent kept a watchful eye on the floor beneath them and the walls and the vaulted ceilings. It all seemed moments away from crumbling and crushing the group. Alicent perhaps did not find it as alarming as she should. It would hurt to fail in her mission, but she would just be one of the billions who died on this sanctified planet.
“... and he was all blustery, telling us he was going to tattle on us to the Emperor, so we just grabbed him.” Rhaenyra shrugged, like admitting that “grabbing” one chosen by the Emperor to protect the First House was inconsequential.
Alicent stopped in her tracks, appalled. “That’s treason.”
Even though the pair had almost engaged in a violent exchange of necromantic blows mere minutes prior, this statement was what seemed to ruffle the Princess’ unflappable air. Rhaenyra and Criston halted, too. “Ah, I had wondered when the hypocritical self-righteousness of the Ninth would show itself,” Rhaenyra said, ignoring Alicent’s resultant spluttering. “We’ve both broken into the holy temple of the First House. You, too, are searching for the secret to Lyctorhood, are you not? That’s treason.”
Criston Cole’s mouth dropped open. Lyctorhood. It was the dream of every necromancer, but new Lyctors hadn’t been created in a myriad. There were many schools of theory on the particulars of why, but what each bubbled down to was simple: the Emperor of the Nine Houses hadn’t wanted any more.
Now there existed only two at his side. Two of the most powerful beings in creation—though neither held a candle to the divine power of the Emperor, they were capable of incomprehensible necromantic miracles, could exist in the void of space, were immortal, and rode dragons. The secret for how the Lyctors had been transformed from an average necro to the Hands and Gestures of God was deeply coveted by each of the Houses.
Rhaenyra had her eyebrows raised and a confrontational look on her face.
“We’re not here for Lyctorhood,” Criston said, though his eyes darted disbelievingly to Alicent. “We’re just here for some artifact. Something for the Ninth House, right Alicient?”
Alicent didn’t acknowledge his words. She tilted her chin up, trying to summon all the dignity and poise befitting her station. “It is of the utmost importance that I gain this knowledge.” Rhaenyra let out a disbelieving scoff. Criston looked betrayed.
Alicent was already beginning to tire of the constant battle of wills. She had spent the majority of her life in quiet study and prayer in the bowels of the Ninth House, talking to few. She was not practiced in holding her ground. In fact, most of her life was fulfilling duties and following orders perfectly. Mindlessly. This whole trip was a complete departure from everything with which Alicent was comfortable.
Her father must be so disappointed with her.
Sensing blood in the water, Rhaenyra inhaled deeply and pursed her lips. “Do you acknowledge, then, the utility in removing the main roadblock to that information?”
“I would argue if that were the main roadblock, you would be a Lyctor already,” Alicent said even as she began walking again, a silent concession to their similar levels of wrongdoing. She didn’t even know the destination. The Third necromancer scoffed and began leading the way once more. She walked as though every step was certain. She walked as if the stone would not dare to crumble under her feet, lest it face her wrath. She walked like a smug idiot who was going to get herself killed.
Alicent tried to stare at her own feet less.
The trio—if one could refer to an awkward and silent procession of three people ill at ease with one another as such—eventually arrived at a large oak door which Rhaenyra threw open carelessly. It slammed hard against the wall with a bang loud enough to make Alicent jump.
Strong, then. Abnormally strong for a necromancer.
“Rhaenyra, he still won’t eat. You would think he’d be starving by now. I don’t–” The feminine voice cut off as she realized Rhaenyra wasn’t alone. “How are you capable of collecting new people even here?”
The woman before them was also decadently beautiful, unfortunately. They shared a similar silver hair tone, and it contrasted nicely against the newcomer’s dark skin. However, while Rhaenyra’s hung perfectly straight where it escaped the braids, this woman, presumably the Third’s cavalier, had long stunning tight curls. Her hair made a part of Alicent long to ask what she used to get it so perfect. It was an impulse Alicent would never act on; the Ninth House had no need for vanity, and anyway, Alicent’s own curls were usually covered by her veil.
Despite her casual words, the cavalier’s body very clearly tensed. The woman wasn’t deeply intimidating at first glance, but as Alicent took in her coiled muscles, she knew better than to dismiss her preemptively.
Rhaenyra gestured grandly—dramatically—to the woman. “This is the cavalier you were so curious about, Lady Alicent.”
Alicent felt the cavalier focus entirely on her like a bird of prey setting their sights on their next meal. Her pointer finger found the soft flesh of her thumb and dug in. “How concerned should I be that she asked after your cav?” the woman asked Rhaenyra, but her eyes never left Alicent.
Alicent crumbled slightly under the gaze and turned her attention to the room in which she’d found herself. She hoped her desperate need to break eye contact wasn’t as obvious as it felt.
It was an interior room in the keep, dimly lit by a roaring fireplace. Despite a clear attempt at clearing the rubble and scum, the air smelled musty and time had not been kind to the furniture. A man sat bound on a couch collapsing in on itself under the pressure of performing its function a thousand years too late.
He was elderly which Alicent was far more used to than the contemporaries with which she’d found herself; most of the Ninth’s population were octogenarians. (A fact that made Alicent feel glad sexual relationships between necromancers and their cavaliers were taboo in the Ninth. The thought of being expected to reproduce with Criston Cole of all people sent a chill down her spine, even with the tiny pool of options.)
“They’ve been fairly cordial as far as the Ninth House goes, to be fair. Only hypocrisy and unspoken threats of violence,” Rhaenyra said blithely. She got into her cavalier’s personal space like it was her gods-given right. She gestured vaguely. “Laena, Alicent and Criston.”
Magnanimously trying to put the tension aside, Alicent smiled a small, polite smile—she was the daughter of a politician, after all. “Well met. We didn’t expect the welcoming party,” she said, avoiding an actual apology. They ignored her words and leaned into each other to have a hushed, private conversation.
The Third necromancer and cavalier were at ease with each other in a way that spoke to their closeness and mutual trust. It was the kind of relationship one should have with their cavalier, and Alicent felt jealous.
Her father had picked Criston for her after she’d requested her brother Gwayne, presumably because he was more expendable to Otto. However reasonable the impetus, the sense of loss and betrayal made her more snappish with Criston than she would have liked.
Occasionally, when she was apart from Criston, Alicent mentally decided to be kinder to the man. It was not his fault that she chafed under her father’s choices, and he was the only person, save her father, Alicent was regularly around.
The attempt never withstood five minutes faced against the reality of being around him, though.
Criston shifted, seemingly aware of how little attention the women were paying him, and Alicent focused instead on the elderly prisoner. His skin was uncomfortably pale—perhaps from his hunger strike—and his eyebrows were intensely expressive. They somehow channeled a mix of disapproval, fear, and a latent threat.
“Is there a reason the two of you didn’t just make a construct to watch over the First House occupant?” Alicent interrupted their conversation.
Laena took it in stride and spoke plainly, “Flesh constructs are difficult to maintain the further away you get from them.”
Alicent rolled her eyes. This is the best the Third House has to offer? Alicent thought smugly to herself. The Ninth House might be severely under-populated, but one could not overlook their sheer power; their whole House was kept running by skeletons working autonomously. Alicent, giving up her incredibly brief attempt at diplomacy for a moment, said, “I forget, sometimes, how utterly useless flesh magic is.”
Seemingly unable to help herself, Rhaenrya said with a wink, “Depends on what you’re using it for, you may find.” Alicent heard the innuendo laced through her tone. Laena’s eyes closed. Alicent felt scandalized.
“Excuse me?”
“I suppose I don’t know what Green Vestals are into, but in the Third, most require a softer touch than bone can provide.” Rhaenyra stepped closer, invading Alicent’s space in the same brazen manner as with Laena. Alicent understood it as a dare but was unsure of the intended provocation.
Alicent cleared her throat, and her face flushed. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” Rhaenyra's eyes betrayed a hint of disappointment before a mask fell over them. “And I would encourage you to look into what ‘vestal’ means before you make such baseless accusations again.”
“Yes. Well. You lot keep on piously guarding the Tomb, and I’ll keep on being a ‘gleaming jewel,’” Rhaenyra leaned back slightly as she spoke, giving only the appearance of personal space as her legs remained firmly rooted.
“‘Three for the gleam of a jewel or a smile,’” Criston quoted helpfully from a planet away. “Though that doesn’t really mean people from the Third House are jewels, I don’t think.”
“You don’t think I shine?” Rhaenyra said with round, falsely innocent eyes but a knowing smirk, glancing over Alicent’s shoulder at him. That knowing quirk of her lips would be enough to prove her point to anyone, Alicent thought. Let alone someone from the damp, dark, undead emptiness of Nine.
When Rhaenyra’s eyes snapped immediately back to hers, Alicent ensured her face was entirely impassive. She would have to compensate for whatever Criston’s expression had done in response.
“You’re lucky I’m here, then,” Alicent said as she pretended like the Third House hadn’t just won a point against them. “I can make a skeleton thrall watch over the prisoner while we explore.”
“You will perish before you uncover the secrets of Canaan House, heretic,” the elderly man wheezed from the couch. For the first time Alicent had seen, the man began struggling against his bonds. “It should only ever be a gift freely given. To steal it goes against the will of God, and you will be punished.”
Alicent’s hand jutted toward her tucked-away necklace without her permission, and she forced it back down. The retraction almost certainly didn’t stop the Third from noticing.
There was a time when even the concept of rebelling against the Emperor would fill her with such all-encompassing fear it would leave her bedridden with her fingers a bloody mess. That was before They had told her the truth, and she knew such measures were necessary to do Their will.
“Then I will be punished,” Alicent replied simply. Rhaenyra’s eyes widened; she clearly hadn’t been expecting that response.
She looked almost pleased.
Not backing away or breaking eye contact with the other necromancer, Alicent wriggled off one of her bone rings and threw it to the ground, mind whirling over the necessary necromantic theorems. Before the bone even hit the ground, it contorted and stretched itself into a full towering skeleton, bones gleaming and strong. It stalked over to the prisoner and stood at the ready.
Rhaenyra stared at Alicent’s face with enough weight that she reached up to touch it self-consciously. The energy required to raise a single bone construct hadn’t made blood pour from her nose since she was a toddler, but Alicent couldn’t imagine what else would cause Rhaenyra to look at her like that. Her hand came away dry.
Alicent could tell that Criston wanted a private word. He was hovering right at the edge of her periphery and staring at her unblinkingly. She shot him a glare, and he glared right back. Laena’s voice cut through the tension as the Third led the Ninth down a hallway, “So far, we’ve mainly been searching the library for clues.”
“It’s hell,” Rhaenyra groaned dramatically, her arm wrapped around Laena’s shoulders as she turned to make eye contact with Alicent where she strode behind the pair. She was relying on her cavalier to lead her around debris. “Imagine the most dusty, stodgy place possible. We don’t even know what we’re looking for, so all of yesterday was just books, books, books.”
“I rather enjoy books, actually.” Alicent ignored the look from Rhaenyra that shouted how unsurprised she was without words. “Have you found anything interesting?”
Laena sighed, “Nothing about Lyctorhood. I doubted it would be as easy as finding records of the process, but I was hoping there would be a hint of some kind.”
“‘Nothing about Lyctorhood’ isn’t quite a ‘no,’ though, is it?” Alicent said with an edge to it. “What did you find?”
“Relax, Reverend Lady,” Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, turning to face forward again. “We’re not trying to keep anything from you. There was a book with references to the Emperor and his Hands in their early days but nothing about the process of becoming a Hand.”
The group arrived at what once must have been a grand entrance. Chiseled into the stone around the doorframe were beautiful, lovingly engraved woodland creatures. Now, one of the double doors was removed from the frame entirely and the other was barely hanging on. Alicent noticed what seemed to be a multi-headed dragon bisected by the two doors that had been disjoined. The beast would never be whole again.
The group stepped over the door and entered the library. It was in a state of complete disrepair, like the rest of Canaan House. Perhaps the rest of the First House in its entirety. Many bookshelves were entirely tipped over and the smell of moldering pages filled the room. The large windows covering a whole wall were all cracked or missing glass entirely. Vines were creeping in and burrowing into the reading chairs that had been positioned lovingly there eons prior.
There was a table in the center of the chaos that was doggedly holding up books that had been strewn and stacked all over it. Rhaenyra sat down in a chair before it and immediately sprawled. Alicent took note of the way Laena left the seat beside her necromancer open and instead stood behind, posture stiff and knight-like. Alicent clasped her hands together in a way that ideally came across as poised but allowed her to tear into her cuticles. She sat beside Rhaenyra.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t bleed. Blood and gore were to the Third what bones were to the Ninth, and Alicent didn’t want her disgusting habit to be unveiled to these women she didn’t know or trust. Luckily, she was used to hiding it as her father never held back a lecture when he caught her.
“I think they were fucking,” Rhaenyra said. Alicent looked in her direction and jolted when she found her once again in Alicent’s space. Their faces were mere inches apart. She’d never been this close to another person in her life and to see all the fine details of Rhaenyra’s face was invigorating in some strange way. Alicent found herself glancing at Rhaenyra’s lips, and her eyes became trapped there, fascinated by the gentle pink of them.
They were so close that Alicent noticed when Rhaenyra’s breath caught momentarily before she raised her eyebrows and let out a small laugh. Alicent quickly backed up and hoped her veil hid her flush. “Who?”
“The Emperor and his Hands,” Rhaenyra said as if nothing had occurred. Perhaps, to her, nothing had, Alicent thought. Perhaps she was used to everyone she interacted with gazing at her lips like an idiot. Rhaenyra did clear her throat as she leaned back in her seat, though, and pulled up one of her knees to hold it against her chest. She pushed one book toward Alicent. “They seem very close.”
“Perhaps they’re close friends. Or siblings,” Alicent replied. She abandoned her previously perfect posture to lean over the tome.
“Could be all three.” Rhaenyra laughed outright in Alicent’s face when she jerked her head up, aghast. Laena chuckled and thumped Rhaenyra on the back of her head.
“She’s joking,” Laena clarified.
“Excuse me for not being able to tell,” Alicent said, her face gone cold. “You Third do have queer customs and a habit of assuming the same of others.”
Rhaenyra looked stricken before furrowing her eyebrows and allowing insult to color her face. “An affinity toward casual sex does not mean we engage in incest, Alicent.”
Alicent pursed her lips. She nodded once shortly and returned to the book. Unable to soothe her thoughts, though, she stopped trying to read and took a deep breath. “I admit to having heard quite a few unfavorable tales of the Third House. I imagine you’ve heard unflattering things about Nine as well.”
Rhaenyra shrugged. “Of a different nature, to be sure, but yes. Shall we attempt to put our feelings aside until we’ve become Lyctors?”
Alicent was unclear exactly what her feelings were on this new woman who had so abruptly entered her life but nodded decidedly. “Might make eternity more comfortable.”
Rhaenyra’s eyes widened, and it was only in response to her face that Alicent fully considered her words. When—not if—the two of them ascended, they would be immortal creatures together. It was likely the two would know each other in some capacity until the universe withered and died. Perhaps even beyond that.
Alicent found herself feeling a previously unheard-of glow of warmth grow within her and granting Rhaenyra a small smile. Rhaenyra blinked. Then one hand reached out to rest on Alicent’s lightly and briefly, just a simple brush, as she returned the smile, all of her features desperately soft.
Alicent looked away.