"A waggon with two hubs shall not turn, and a kingdom with two kings shall burn." - Queen Adella, The Queen of Hearts.
112 AC
Alicent Hightower POV:
The air was heavy and thick, suffocating, weighing heavily, almost crushing her soul; she could barely stand. The occasional hollow screeching of wavered souls rang maddeningly in her head.
The inky, infinite blanket that hung over the land was a stark contrast to the white expanse of desolate desert. The full moon hung in the sky like the eye of a dead god, unmoving, unblinking, unfocused yet catching all in its gaze, its rays falling onto the earth, letting the eyes wander and see the endless emptiness of this realm.
The ground was some facsimile of sand but more loose; it scattered beneath her feet like powdered bones of the lost , almost dragging her into its depths like the hands of the damned dragging her down to Hades with them. The grains cut her, her life's essence colouring the white earth crimson as she felt herself falling and falling deeper and deeper, the ground beneath her like water, her feet kicking futilely as she tried to keep herself from sinking to the depths; the light seemed to get dimmer and dimmer as she saw herself slipping into the depths of this predatory land.
Just then she caught a glimpse of something reaching for her – a pale, lifeless hand reaching for her ebony loose robes hung from its marble flesh. She felt a vice grip around her throat as if her breath was pulled from her lungs. As the grip of the land loosened on her and she escaped from her confinement, she found stability on her hands and knees, her gaze slowly moving upwards. The noir robe was silky clean, unbesmirched, even though her expensive silk gown had been reduced to little more than rags; it was as if the very world was afraid to offend it.
"You spend your entire life around me, yet you do not know me.
You fear me, yet you do not know me.
You were to so many others what I am to you, yet you do not know me.
I could be a friend or foe, yet you do not know me.
Who am I?
A cold, rusty echo resounded through the abyss like a blade scraping flesh off bone. The light of the moon couldn't even pierce the darkness of its hood; all that proved its existence was its rusty voice echoing through her mind like a dark lullaby.
She felt her brain go into overdrive, every synapse firing, every memory flashing through her mind. Till one stuck still in her, a dark statue covered in dust, one she had thrown herself before, and before she knew it, her tongue moved faster than her mind, and she let out a soft whisper, "Stranger".
Even if she couldn't see, every fibre of her being was sure that the being before her was smiling. Winds began to rapidly sway, and the sands began to twist around her pillars, erecting to touch the inky void, their loose bonds forgotten as they climbed higher and higher. The winds twisted rapidly more and more and more until her eyes grew dry, until it was impossible to keep them open. She hid them behind her forearm, praying whatever this was would be over soon, and it was. As the twisting torrents calmed, she anxiously dropped her arm and saw a new sight before her: the world had changed completely.
She now sat on solid obsidian stone in a grand hall with no ceiling, every wall covered in torches and engraved with gold. As her eyes fell to the floor, she almost felt herself jump out of her own skin, faces contorted in pain etched onto every stone, too lifelike, too real. Every detail was marked, from wrinkles to tears; no craftsman could have made engravings so detailed on so many stones.
The moon's rays illuminated the hall, shining brightly, bouncing off the armour of the skeleton knights, each larger than any man I'd seen before, each covered head to toe in fine armour, each unmoving, yet I could feel the malice from them as if they only awaited a signal to cut me down. Each pillar of the great hall was lined with them; they formed two parallel lines, all leading to the end of the hall to the stranger.
He was sprawled on a golden throne larger than even the Iron Throne, yet he didnt seem any smaller on it rather, it added to his imposing presence. In his pale hands he held chains made from material that mirrored Blackfyre and Darksister perfectly: Valyrian steel. I couldn't help but let out a *gasp* when i saw who the chains connected to
They were connected to collars around the necks of many women, each more beautiful than the last, each lying around the throne. No life or hope seemed to emanate from their eyes; they were hollow husks. One woman drew my eye in particular, a woman I'd seen as a child, a woman who was young again yet no more healthy than the day I saw her die. Alyssane Targaryen wearing the same collar as every other woman and as hollow as every other woman.
"Focusing too much on the dead is an ill omen, my dear," the strangely soothing voice spoke. It was the stranger speaking.
"Am I dead?" I whispered, the words tasting like bile as they escaped my throat. Had I died and left my children alone? Had I left them unprotected as Mother left me? Had my last interaction with Aemon been one of fury and disappointment?
"No, but you will be. All mortals die, but that's beside the point. You called for me. It's been a long time since one of your blood called for me. Gardner blood is always so reluctant, so proud, so why have you thrown yourself to my mercy, girl?" He said, resting his head on his hand.
My mouth dried, but I spoke, doing my best to calm myself. "Protection saved my son; the decider of death saved my son. Let him live; have me instead if you wish."
"What are you, a faceless man naming one name for another? You're offering me nothing; all mortals come to me. Why would I care about taking your life for his when both are mine to take whenever I see fit? he scoffed
"Then what do you wish? Please name it. If I can do it, I will do anything for my son." I pleaded my desperation, dancing through the hallowed halls.
"I want your soul, your immortal soul. I will own it like these women you see before you; I will own you. You won't pass on to the afterlife – no heaven or hell; you'll be here in my domain in limbo for all eternity as my property. Such is the price for dealing with death; you will lose your soul." He barked out, the chains rattling as his arms waved as he spoke.
I felt as if the earth had been pulled from beneath my feet. Daming myself to be a slave for eternity – could I do that? Would I do that for my son, for Aemon, to give up eternity for him? The more I thought, the firmer my resolve became. He was my son; I had swaddled him, nursed him, tucked him in and slept with him. He was as much a part of me as my arm. I would not let him down again. I may have brought him into the world where he was set to inherit nothing, but it does not mean I would give him nothing. He was my son; eternity was a small price to pay for him to live a natural life, so I spoke with more confidence than I ever had before: "I will. You can have my soul. Just save my son."
"How touching. Very well, name the person who will die for your son to live, Leonor, Rhaenys, or Leana, who will die so Aemon lives," the stranger asked in a bored tone.
"Wasn't my soul the payment?" i asked
"It was for my help, but the balance of the world requires one soul to leave it in that clash, and I wish for you to name who. Your soul was my payment for excluding your son from the selection, allowing you to pick. It is mere courtesy, like that of the Faceless Men. A soul, and you can pick. So who do you pick, Alicent?" He asked his head no longer resting on his hand as he sat up straight.
"I choose ..."
-The End-
sorry it took so long ive been busy with exams ive got two more finals left so im preparing for them so my sechdual is a bit hectic and im also gong on hoilday this easter so yh ill try to finish this arc soon
tell me how you liked it i thought id give the Seven some representaion since GRR seems to skip over them so much and so does every other fic wasted potential i say any way till next time stay well