Alicent made her way down the stone stairs, her steps slow and hesitant. The air was so cold she could see her own puffs of breath. She had convinced herself she needed this. Needed you.

Long ago, when she was nothing but Rhaenyra’s handmaiden, she had wandered deep into the Black Cells. There, she had met you. You were young, only a year older than her, thrown into the cells for being accused of witchcraft. Alicent had quickly fled, frightened.

She was grown now, no longer a frightened little girl. She was a queen. A queen that desperately wanted the war to stop before it fully began. If that meant making a deal with a witch, then so be it.

She strode down the line of cells, her eyes studying each form tucked away. She kept her head held high, despite the fact that she was nervously picking at the skin around her nails.

She stopped in front of one of the big metal doors, recognizing it from her childhood. She leaned forward, looking through the small opening on the door. There, she spotted your form in the corner. It was a wonder you hadn’t passed away from the cold or thirst.

Alicent straightened up, clearing her throat to gain your attention.