Chapter Text
Rhaenyra steps out from her hotel room and heads down to the bar, where she knows one of the six regular bartenders that work around this hour will recognize her and wordlessly slide her her regular— a gin martini, ice-cold, two olives, dirty— which isn’t even really her preferred regular choice of drink, but she doesn’t really know what that is in the first place, and has no interest in striking up conversation with any of them to figure it out.
Every now and then, someone will approach her; usually men who are here for some work trip, who often have the gall to openly wear wedding rings. For the most part, all it takes is a sideways glance towards one of the bartenders for one of them to shoo him away. Other times, she’ll have to handle it herself, usually with a curl of the lip and a glare, which is oftentimes enough for them to back away because she makes herself a difficult woman.
Sometimes, she considers it— letting go for the evening, allowing these men to buy her as many drinks as she wants and fuck them and leave them to deal with whatever miserable life they’ve created for their wives.
Sometimes, she considers searching them up and finding said wives. But she doesn’t, because she can’t, because she doesn’t know if they work for The Company, which is the thing about being who she is—
Someone who does not know who she is, but knows she is being hunted; in a constant state of being on the verge of being caught by those she has run from. Every stranger could be a plant, every compliment a question, every question— where are you from, darling? What brings you here?— could be an opening to something insidious.
It’s the women she tends to gravitate towards; they tend to be far less bold, far less predictable. They watch her from a distance instead of circling like sharks. Sometimes they smile, sometimes they don’t.
It’s easier to pretend curiosity is harmless when it comes from a woman, which is why Rhaenyra finds her eyes continuously moving towards the brunette woman adjacent to her, a few seats down, sipping a martini of her own. She’s wearing a beautiful red dress.
She has the strangest feeling that she recognizes her; something in her head buzzes, for a moment, but that’s nothing new.
Every now and then, Rhaenyra will see someone she’s convinced she recognizes, but it’ll just be some fucking person that she’s worked herself up over, convinced herself that they’re some rogue agent from The Company when in actuality they’re just the corner store clerk, or the bartender. Her psyche has cried wolf enough that she can’t tell left from right, these days— so, she just sticks to herself, for the most part.
But this woman will occasionally look back and her eyes will flit up and down, and she’s really quite beautiful, and Rhaenyra has been so lonely, and—
“Another?” the bartender asks. Rhaenyra looks at her martini to see that she’s drained it and nods, looks around the room again. A man is eyeing the other woman in a way where it’s clear he thinks he’s hot shit, brow raised and smarmy smile, and she curls her nose in visible disgust before turning back to the woman, who looks away the moment Rhaenyra looks to her.
And Rhaenyra has been lonely— for months, now, on the run from people she doesn’t know, towards nothing in particular, using what little savings she has left from The Company to carry her through. Trying to find out more about herself but failing, because Rhaenyra Targaryen is a ghost. She looks at the woman again and holds her stare this time; the woman holds it back, and offers up a small smile.
Rhaenyra waits for her martini and when the bartender slides it over to her, she picks it up and makes the decision to rise and sit beside the woman.
“There’s a man to your right, looking at you quite funnily,” Rhaenyra says to her, having a sip.
“Interesting,” she says, and Rhaenyra even feels like she recognizes her voice— warm, a little husky. “There was a woman to my left that was just doing the same.”
Rhaenyra smiles, hums. “People aren’t very subtle these days, are they?”
“Mm.” The woman takes a slow sip of her drink. “Maybe she thought I wouldn’t notice.”
“But you did.”
“I notice most things.” The woman sets her glass down.
Rhaenyra takes the chance, then and there— worst-worst case, she’s with The Company and hunting Rhaenyra down, but nothing about this woman screams covert operative— so, in actuality, the worst case is this woman is entirely straight and waiting for some handsome date to sweep her off her feet.
The best case? Well.
“…I can’t quite tell if you’re flirting with me, or humouring me,” Rhaenyra says behind her glass, having another sip.
“That depends,” the woman says. “Would you care either way?”
Rhaenyra studies her; her mouth, her eyes, the way she holds herself. She isn’t braced like someone expecting a fight.
“I’d care if I was wrong,” Rhaenyra says. “I don’t like misreading women.”
The woman tilts her head. “Do you misread men?”
“Men are easy.”
“That so?”
“Unsurprising is the better word, maybe.” Rhaenyra shrugs. “A woman, though…it matters if she’s looking at me, or looking past me. So.” She shifts slightly, enough to face her fully. “Which one were you doing?”
The woman’s lips twitch, and Rhaenyra catches the faintest hint of a blush dusting her cheeks, and she’s really quite fucking beautiful, isn’t she—
“I was looking at you.”
Rhaenyra smiles, feels something hot curling low in her stomach. “Always good to know I’m not imagining things.” She turns to her, extends her hand. “My name is Talya.”
The woman takes her hand, looking right back at Rhaenyra.
“…Alicent.”
Their hands linger. Rhaenyra grins at this, but as she looks at Alicent, she notices that it almost feels like Alicent is waiting for something. An invite, perhaps. Rhaenyra doesn’t know.
“Talya,” Alicent repeats. Rhaenyra almost wishes she’d told her her real name, if only to hear her say it aloud in that voice of hers. “Quite a lovely name.”
“Yours is, too.” Rhaenyra leans against the counter. “I’d ask if you were waiting for a date, but…”
“But?”
“You’re sitting here with me, aren’t you?”
“I suppose I am.” Alicent shrugs. “I’m in town for the evening. Business.”
“Sounds important.”
“…Accounting,” Alicent says, sighing. “Truly riveting, I know.” She has a sip, eyes Rhaenyra over her glass. “And you?”
“Me?”
“Are you waiting for a date, or are you…” she trails off, waving her glass vaguely across the room.
Rhaenyra shakes her head. “No date.”
“Meeting someone?”
“No.” She rests her elbow on the bar. “Just drinking. Passing time.”
“Until?”
Rhaenyra shrugs, genuinely not knowing how to answer this question that she hasn’t even been able to answer for herself—
Passing time until I find out more about who the fuck I am. Passing time until I find out why I can’t remember a single thing about myself, but somehow still remember how to put together a gun.
“I…left a bad situation,” she says vaguely.
Alicent winces in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” Rhaenyra tilts her head, rather intentionally drags her eyes down to Alicent’s lips back to her eyes; when she does, she sees those lips part slightly. “Can I buy you another drink, Alicent?”
“…You may.”
Rhaenyra signals the bartender; points to Alicent’s drink. He nods. When she turns back, Alicent is watching her intently.
“You’re a regular?”
“I’ve been staying here for a bit,” Rhaenyra confirms. “Gathering my bearings, all that. Figuring out what to do next.”
And, because Rhaenyra senses that Alicent is the type to keep asking questions to make conversation, and because Rhaenyra either doesn’t want to answer them or doesn’t know how to answer them, she decides to bite the bullet.
“For example— you’re only here for the evening, yes?”
The bartender brings Alicent a fresh drink. Alicent takes it with a soft thank you, and has a sip before nodding.
“Correct.”
“Then, for example— we finish our drinks, and… you come up to my room with me.”
Alicent’s eyes widen slightly at that, but she doesn’t pull back; she sits a little straighter.
“Quite the example,” Alicent says, voice a little low, nervous, almost. “Seems you’ve already gotten a head start.” She pauses, and her eyes lower to Rhaenyra’s lips, her throat, then lift again, and it’s thrilling, it’s always thrilling like this. “Unless… this isn’t an example, and it’s your actual plan?”
“Both,” Rhaenyra says. “If you’d like.”
“You’re very forward.”
“Perhaps I don’t like to waste time.”
And Alicent, whose eyes had gone dark and her breathing noticeably shallower, suddenly seems to collect herself, takes a breath, has a long sip of her drink, and Rhaenyra has the sense that she’s almost rushing finishing it.
Alicent sets her glass down. “I…”
Rhaenyra swallows, reverting to damage control. “If that was too much—”
“No.” Alicent stops her quickly, shaking her head once. “No, that’s not it.”
Rhaenyra waits, lets her set the pace now.
Alicent looks down at her glass, then back up. “I just haven’t done this in a long time.”
“I’m not trying to push you,” Rhaenyra says softly. “I’m just… telling you what I want. If you don’t want the same thing, we can sit here and talk and drink, and that’s that.”
Alicent goes quiet for a moment, thumb tracing the stem of her glass, and her eyes lift again.
“I want the same thing,” she says, after a moment. “I’m just trying to decide whether it’s a good idea or not.”
“…Play it by ear?” Rhaenyra teases.
Alicent looks down at her glass for a while after that, twisting her lips, and Rhaenyra feels mild embarrassment coursing through her chest; wonders if she’s simply come on too strong, though Alicent was the one who’d said she was only here for the evening, so it’s not as though—
“Finish your drink,” Alicent says quietly. “I’ll decide then.”
***
Alicent decides. Rhaenyra watches, faintly smirking, as Alicent writes her name and room number on the slip for the bartender to charge to her room.
Alicent Florent, Room 1502.
Nice handwriting, Rhaenyra thinks.
In the elevator up to Rhaenyra’s room, it’s quiet; they stand beside each other, energy humming between them, arousal low in Rhaenyra’s gut with the anticipation of what’s about to happen. She doesn’t know what to expect; doesn’t know whether she should be the one to take control, or if Alicent’s the type to want to take it slowly—
Which is a thought that is cut entirely short when Alicent is the one who is reaching up and turning Rhaenyra’s face towards hers, with barely enough time for Rhaenyra to react before Alicent’s mouth is on hers, hungry, open-mouthed.
Rhaenyra makes a low sound, grabs Alicent’s waist, pulls her in; Alicent pushes her back into the elevator wall with more confidence than Rhaenyra had expected. The buzzing starts in the back of her head again.
Rhaenyra parts her lips and Alicent’s tongue slides against hers, slow at first, then deeper when Rhaenyra tightens her hold. Alicent’s hand slips to the back of Rhaenyra’s neck, keeping her right where she wants her, and gods above she’s a good kisser, like we were made for this—
The elevator dings, and they pull back. Alicent’s mouth is swollen, eyes wanting, dark.
“Lead the way,” she whispers.
Rhaenyra gets out of the elevator and into the hallway with her pulse in her teeth, walking down, Alicent close behind, and she fumbles her keycard only once before the door clicks open.
Alicent pushes inside first.
Rhaenyra follows and decidedly takes control of the moment; Alicent almost looks like she’s observing the room around her when Rhaenyra grabs her hand and whirls her towards herself, kissing her again, then again, moaning into it and Alicent moaning back as she backs Alicent against the door to shut it, pressing her thigh up between her legs, between her dress.
“Fuck,” Rhaenyra moans, lowering her lips to Alicent’s neck and pressing an open-mouthed kiss there, smelling the perfume, tasting the salt on her skin, licking it off and relishing when Alicent lets out a high-pitched moan. Their hands are everywhere, Alicent’s hands lifting up against Rhaenyra’s sternum and undoing the buttons of her shirt as Rhaenyra kisses her, their tongues sliding against each other.
“Bed,” Alicent breathes, and Rhaenyra guides her there, kissing her the entire way, shrugging off her shirt when Alicent successfully undoes the last button. Rhaenyra starts unzipping Alicent’s dress as they stand at the foot of the bed, one hand palming against a soft breast, swallowing the moan that Alicent lets out.
And Rhaenyra’s ready to take this fucking dress off, push Alicent down onto the bed and take her when Alicent breathes—
“Fuck, Rhaenyra—”
Rhaenyra’s kissing her neck again when she hears it, and she doesn’t quite register why it’s strange, at first; in fact, arousal is the initial thing that tears through her when she does hear the sound of her own name in Alicent’s mouth, and she feels Alicent stiffen a little, which is when Rhaenyra, herself, realizes, and—
Rhaenyra backs off fast enough that her hip collides against the small desk that’s by her bed, jolting the lamp. She fumbles behind her for something— anything— and finds a paperweight that she holds in her hand. Her breathing is rough as every nerve in her brain starts firing at once, arousal tangled with the sudden and vicious sting of fear, and confusion. Alicent freezes where she stands, dress half-unzipped, lips swollen, hair mussed, with her hands open and slowly rising.
“…Hey,” Alicent says quietly, her own chest rising and falling heavily. “Hey— it’s alright—”
“How do you know my name?”
“It’s alright.”
Rhaenyra lifts the paperweight when Alicent takes a step towards her; Alicent gets the message and nods, stops.
“Can— can I zip my dress back up?”
“No. Don’t move.” Rhaenyra shakes her head, feeling utterly stupid, feeling like a hormonal, cunt-struck idiot— she’d recognized Alicent and still, she hadn’t raised any red flags, because she was lonely, and it’s pathetic, pathetic— “How do you know my name.”
“Just— put that down, and we can talk—”
“You’re with them, aren’t you?”
“Who?”
“Don’t play fucking dumb,” Rhaenyra growls.
“It’s alright—”
“Stop fucking saying that.” Rhaenyra uses her free hand to button up the middle of her shirt. “Tell me how you know my name.”
Alicent lifts her hands higher. “Listen to me. I’m not with anyone. I’m not here to hurt you. Just lower the—”
“I am not lowering anything until you answer.”
“I will,” Alicent insists. “Just let me—”
“I’m not fucking around.” Alicent steps forward again, and Rhaenyra’s entire body locks up— her firearm is in her closet, in the safe, and she knew she should’ve kept it in her nightstand like normal but she wanted housekeeping to clean up, and—
“Don’t move,” Rhaenyra warns.
Alicent freezes. “Please. I’m trying to help you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Rhaenyra,” Alicent says again, hands still up. “You’re scared. I get that. But I’m not—”
Alicent moves. It’s small; just her right hand shifting, maybe to adjust her slipping dress, maybe a reflex, maybe nothing— but Rhaenyra reads it immediately, and she reacts first, and she lunges.
Alicent gasps and throws her arms up; the paperweight swings and Alicent blocks it with her forearm, stumbling back into the foot of the bed. Rhaenyra charges again, and Alicent grabs for her wrist, trying to stop the next swing.
“Rhaenyra—wait—stop—!”
Rhaenyra wrenches free and drives her shoulder into Alicent hard enough to knock her off balance. They crash onto the mattress; Alicent tries to flip them, but Rhaenyra is stronger, faster, fuelled by pure panic. She pins Alicent’s arm with her knee and grabs her throat with her free hand.
Alicent bucks under her. “I’m not— with— The Company—”
So she knows about them— how does she know about them—
“Then why,” Rhaenyra hisses, straining under Alicent’s struggling, “Do you know my name?”
Alicent stops fighting.
She goes still, wide-eyed, breath rapid.
“Because it’s me,” she gasps. “It’s me, it’s Alicent, we— we worked together, we—”
“So you are with The Company—?!”
“I was, but I’m not anymore— I haven’t been since— they took you, Rhaenyra, they took you, and they’ve— they’ve wiped your memory for— I don’t know why, but we’ve finally found you— I’ve finally found you. Please—”
Rhaenyra hesitates at this, and the buzzing in her head turns into ringing, and it almost hurts— she winces, and she stills for half a second, and Alicent seems to see the space— the slip— and she tries again, shoving up with all her strength, trying to knock Rhaenyra back and get out from under her, and Rhaenyra reacts without thinking.
She brings the paperweight down.
Alicent’s eyes go wide again in shock as she collapses back onto the mattress, arms falling limp, chest rising with shallow breaths as her eyes look dizzyingly around as though trying to re-orient herself before they slip closed entirely.
Rhaenyra stares down at her, shaking, the paperweight slipping from her fingers onto the sheets.
“Fuck,” Rhaenyra whispers. “Fuck—”
Alicent lies unconscious beneath her.
Rhaenyra checks to make sure she’s still breathing, which she is, and she drops the paperweight on the ground beside her. Her head is starting to hurt; like a migraine, right behind her eyes, and there’s a ringing in her ears, and something is happening, and she doesn’t know what’s going on—
Just that she needs to run. She stumbles off the bed, buttoning up the rest of her shirt. The ringing in her ears spikes hard enough that her palm instinctively rises to press against one side of her head, clenching her teeth. Alicent remains still, sprawled across the mattress, her cheek turned against the sheets. Her lashes twitch once, then settle.
Something in Rhaenyra’s chest coils tight—
She doesn’t know this woman, but her brain won’t stop firing and scrambling and pulling at loose threads that may or may not exist, and the ringing is getting louder.
“Fuck,” she breathes again, through her teeth, “Fuck, fuck—”
The room feels too small, suddenly, and the walls press in, and she can’t breathe or think; Rhaenyra grabs her bag from the corner, yanks the zipper open. Wallet, fake passport, cash, burner phone. She goes to the safe, gets her firearm.
Her vision blurs for a second from the pressure building in her skull. A stabbing pulse with each beat of her heart. She wipes at her eyes, shakes her head, forces her focus back.
Run.
That’s the only clear thought in her entire mind.
She looks at Alicent one last time, wonders how long it’ll be until she wakes up.
Wonders if she should perhaps just kill her, but then what?
Then again, if she doesn’t kill her, how long will it take for Alicent to wake up, and call someone, and have the authorities come after her, or The Company? And how the fuck did she know about The Company, and why don’t I want to kill her—
Rhaenyra holds her firearm in her hand for a moment longer before deciding she doesn’t want blood on her hands tonight— forces herself to move first, think later. She snatches her bag, holsters her firearm, puts on her jacket, swings her bag over her shoulder—
And, with one last look back at Alicent—
She leaves.
“…If I wasn’t clear enough before,” Laena says, leaning against the wall as Lyman flashes a light into Alicent’s eyes, “You’re a fucking idiot.”
Alicent had woken up at some point in Rhaenyra’s empty room, her head on fire, and she’d called Laena and Mysaria to come get her— they’re now sitting in their makeshift safe house some distance away from the hotel. Mysaria sits at a laptop, not speaking. Syrax— a bumbling Bernese mountain dog that Alicent and Rhaenyra had found on one of their earlier missions— snoozes in a corner.
“Clear enough, thank you,” Alicent says, wincing when Lyman presses slightly against the bump on her forehead.
“Do you know how long you were out for?” Lyman asks. “Approximation?”
Alicent shrugs. “Maybe fifteen minutes. An hour. I’m not sure.”
“That’s not good,” Lyman mutters, taking his rubber gloves off.
“Didn’t realize.” Alicent feels mildly nauseous— she doesn’t need Lyman to tell her that she’s badly concussed. The floor looks like it’s tilting, a little. “I’m fine.”
“You need a CT scan,” Lyman says sternly.
“From where, exactly?” Alicent asks. “Any hospitals that aren’t on The Company’s payroll?”
“Don’t be difficult,” Lyman says, tossing the gloves in a bin. “You could have a brain bleed.”
Laena snorts. “Maybe she had one before, even— that would explain the decision-making.”
Alicent glares at her. “Laena, I swear to the gods—”
“Right— go ahead,” Laena fires back. “Tell me how this was somehow the smart move. Tell me how walking into a hotel room alone with someone who has no idea who you are was a great tactical choice.”
“At least Karstark’s intel was correct,” Mysaria says from the corner.
Robert Karstark was the one they’d captured and gotten to talk— as far as Alicent knows, he’s currently still handcuffed to a chair downstairs, where she’d ordered Laena and Mysaria not to allow him any water or food.
“Has he said anything else?” Alicent asks.
“No,” Mysaria says. “Not that that matters anymore. His path to her ended here. No trace of her anywhere, now. Again.”
“Well— what now, then?” Laena asks. “We let him go?”
“No,” Mysaria and Alicent say at the same time.
Laena lets out a frustrated groan. “I fucking knew we shouldn’t have let you go in there,” she says, throwing her hands up. “I mean, for fuck’s sake— it was supposed to be recon, Alicent, you were just supposed to watch—”
“She approached me!” Alicent protests. “What else was I to do—”
“And, what— she, batted her eyelashes at you once, and you were like, hey, let’s forget about the fact that we’ve been looking for her for the better part of a fucking year and follow her upstairs for a quick shag—”
“Laena,” Mysaria warns. Laena ignores her.
“It was stupid— we had her, Alicent, and you fucking— you fucked it, because you wanted to fuck her, and the gods know when we’ll find her again!”
Whether it’s from the head injury or from feeling Rhaenyra’s lips against her for the first time in a year, seeing Rhaenyra for the first time in a year, she doesn’t know, but Alicent feels her temper spiking faster than normal— which isn’t saying much on a normal day, but—
“Worse yet,” Laena continues, “what if The Company finds her before we do, this time? Do you think someone in that hotel didn’t notice the two of us having to basically carry you out? Do you think—”
“I was this close!!!” Alicent roars, shooting up from the couch, feeling immediately unsteady— she feels Lyman’s hand around her arm, and roughly throws it off, almost losing her footing.
Laena flinches. Mysaria straightens from the counter.
Alicent sways a few times before managing to plant her feet firmly. Her head feels like it’s full of television static.
“I had her,” Alicent says again, calmer but still wildly upset. “I had her right in front of me. She was alive, Laena. She was breathing. I wasn’t— she asked me if I wanted to come up to her room, and I wasn’t about to let her walk away—”
“You didn’t need to follow her upstairs,” Laena cuts in, still heated but quieter now, hands lifted, like she’s trying to talk Alicent down, which just makes Alicent angrier. “You didn’t need to go that far—”
“I was this close,” Alicent repeats, voice cracking with frustration and exhaustion and heartbreak, “I know I fucked up— I know I did, I know. But you— you weren’t there, you don’t know what it was like— she was right there.”
Mysaria rises, steps forward. “Alicent—”
“If The Company gets her first,” Alicent says, stepping back, “that’s on me. Not you, not Karstark, not our intel. Me. We have to find her.”
Laena opens her mouth, then shuts it again, jaw working.
Alicent sways again. The nausea spikes.
Lyman steps in slowly, careful not to startle her. “Sit down before you pass out.”
She still doesn’t sit.
“We’re finding her,” Alicent says through her teeth. “I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care what it costs. We’re finding her.”
Mysaria meets her eyes steadily. “We will.”
“I need to talk to Karstark,” Alicent says.
“Fuck’s sake, Alicent,” Laena says, exasperated. “Look at the state of you— just wait—”
“Any minute now, she might be fucking— getting on a plane and disappearing again, and that’s another year, Laena!” Alicent barks. “Maybe even fucking five! Or maybe The Company will kill her! So no, I will not wait!”
Her voice cracks on the last word; she looks to see that Laena’s staring at her, stunned. Lyman watches her with his hands half-raised, seemingly ready to catch her if she goes down, which Alicent isn’t entirely certain whether or not she can write off as a possibility just yet.
Her chest is heaving, and the static in her head surges, her vision blurring at the edges. But she doesn’t care— she has to speak to Karstark, she has to know what else he knows.
Laena and Mysaria hadn’t allowed her to question him until absolutely necessary— something about Alicent’s lack of control in emotional circumstances— and Alicent had agreed, partly because Mysaria threatening him in vivid detail how she would castrate him had worked well enough.
But now?
“Alicent,” Mysaria says quietly, stepping forward. “Stop.”
“I can’t,” Alicent says. “I can’t—if she leaves this city again, if The Company grabs her, if she falls into another hole we can’t dig her out of—”
“You can’t stand up straight,” Lyman says. “You’re not going after anyone.”
Alicent opens her mouth to argue—
—and the room tilts so hard the floor seems to jump at her.
She grabs the back of the couch with both hands, knuckles white, fighting the urge to vomit.
Laena curses under her breath and moves toward her fast. “Sit. Down.”
“I will after I speak to Karstark.” Alicent looks up. Laena looks like she might actually explode, and Mysaria looks exhausted— they’re all exhausted. “Let me talk to him.”
“Alicent—” Laena starts.
“Let her,” Mysaria interrupts.
Laena snaps her head toward her. “What? No. Absolutely not. She’s about to keel over—!”
“You promise you’ll do everything Lyman tells you to do for your head?” Mysaria asks. “If we let you?”
Laena throws her arms up in the air and turns around, hands on her hips, shaking her head and muttering under her breath.
“Scout’s honour,” Alicent says, blood rushing through her hears. Mysaria sighs.
“Laena?” she says.
Laena turns, still grumbling, and shakes her head.
“…If you pass out mid-sentence, I’ll kill you myself,” Laena mutters. “Come on, then.”
***
They’ve punched up the thermostat in the room Karstark is in; it smells like sweat and mildew in here. Alicent tries not to let the bile in her throat rise, swallowing it down as she steps in with Laena closing the door behind her, remaining in the room.
Karstark sits shackled to a chair bolted to the floor, at the table, shirt damp, black hair stuck to his forehead. He looks up when they enter, eyes flicking from Alicent’s pale face to the bruise forming along her brow. He’s a burly man, bearded, with a scar across his eye.
“Hells,” he mutters, looking at the bruised bump on her forehead. “She did you in good.”
“Spare me,” Alicent says, lowering herself into the chair opposite him. The movement sends the room into a brief tilt. She digs her nails into her palm under the table, forcing the spin to settle before sitting across from him. “Are you thirsty, Robert?”
Karstark just swallows thickly and glares at her. “I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Let’s get him some water, Laena?” Alicent asks without turning around. There’s silence. Alicent slowly turns, mostly because she’s afraid if she turns any faster she’ll actually fall to the ground. “Laena.”
Laena eyes Alicent nervously, then Karstark— her body language is clear. She does not want to leave Alicent alone in a room with him. Still, Alicent remains steady as she looks at her.
“…Right,” Laena says slowly. “Fine.”
Laena steps out, leaving the door cracked. Alicent waits until she’s gone before turning and speaking to him again.
“Everything you told Mysaria,” she says. “Was true.”
“…You’re welcome?”
“You said something about— about how Rhaenyra’s glitching,” Alicent continues. “How the chip they planted in her head wasn’t stable. How did you know?”
“Look, lady,” Karstark says, “I was on one assignment with her— one— before she fucking went— I dunno— berserk, and ran off—”
“Do you have one, too?”
“A chip? No— fuck that,” Karstark says, scoffing. “Besides, they only give those to high-value assets. I was never important enough—”
“When you went on that assignment with her,” Alicent presses, impatient and angry at how little he seems to care, feeling like she’s moments away from vomiting all over the table, “When she glitched— tell me what happened.”
“Why should I?”
Alicent stiffens. “Excuse me?”
“Why should I tell you anything else?” Karstark asks. “For water? Nah. I’ve already told you enough to lead you to her—”
“Lead me to her? You didn’t even know where she was tonight. We found her. Not you.”
Karstark shrugs, leaning back as much as the restraints allow. “Still. I talked. I’m done.”
Alicent’s head throbs hard. “You’re not.”
Karstark smirks.
“I’m not afraid of you.” He pauses. “The quiet one, maybe— knows a little too much about cutting cocks off for my liking, but— I’m not afraid of you. Look at you. A little fragile bird. I’m not saying shit.”
Laena comes in right as Alicent considers pressing her thumbs into his eyes, places the glass of water in front of him.
Alicent looks at it, then at him.
“…Go ahead,” she says coldly. “Drink up.”
He looks at her once, then reaches forward with his bound hands; he takes a slow drink, eyes on her the whole time, taunting, and Alicent feels it—
That thing inside of her, that insidious, violent thing—
— It snaps.
He sets it down.
“There,” he says. “Refreshments handled. Now we’re done—”
Alicent moves fast, grabbing the glass immediately and smashing it against the side of his head— she feels glass piercing her own skin on her hand, but it doesn’t matter, because blood pours fast out of the freshly-cut skin on his head.
“Fuck!” he yelps.
“There,” she says, panting, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him forward so fast his chair jerks against the floor bolts with a screech. “Now talk.”
“Alicent—!” Laena exclaims from behind her, but Alicent lifts a hand, her eyes not leaving Karstark’s.
“Robert,” she hisses, “There is a very specific reason this is the first time you’re speaking to me.”
“Fuck— I’m bleeding—”
“The reason being— you should be very scared of me,” Alicent says, her grip iron-tight in his shirt. Blood spills down the side of Karstark’s face, dripping onto his collar.
He winces, breathing uneven. “You’re out of your mind—!”
“Tell me what else you know about The Company,” Alicent says, keeping her voice even, adrenaline now the sole thing keeping her upright. “The chip.”
“They’ll— they’ll kill me,” Karstark stammers out.
“So will I— just slower.”
Karstark hesitates for a moment, his eyes moving wildly from Alicent to Laena, still bleeding.
“If I tell you— will you let me go?”
“Yes,” Alicent lies.
“I— I don’t believe you.”
Alicent leans in, pulling him even closer until their foreheads almost touch—his blood smearing across her skin.
“Then pick the option that’ll hurt less.”
Karstark’s breath shakes— his breath is sour, dry. He tries pulling back, but the restraints pin him to the chair.
Laena circles behind Alicent, posture tense, hands half-raised like she’s preparing to catch Alicent— but, mercifully, she doesn’t step in.
Alicent’s voice rises. “Start talking!”
Karstark’s eyes dart between them again.
Alicent shoves him back into his seat and pushes her thumb in, right where he’s bleeding from.
He swears aloud again.
“Shit!” He flinches. “Fine, fine!”
Alicent releases her hold on his head.
“The chip is—fuck—experimental. Project Solstice, it’s called. The Company has been developing it for— for years, apparently, and it wasn’t supposed to be put to use for another five, but— Criston Cole, Criston Cole— once Otto Hightower was taken out, Cole expedited it—”
(A flash in Alicent’s mind— her, holding the gun, squeezing the trigger that fired the bullet which hit right between her own father’s eyes as he held a pistol to Rhaenyra’s head—
I don’t miss—)
“— It wasn’t supposed to be for long-term use,” Karstark finishes. “But it wipes your— I don’t know, they called it episodic memory, long-term memory, like— but you remember, you keep your fucking— I don’t know— it starts with an S, I don’t know—”
“Semantic memory?” Alicent prompts.
“Yes, yes, that. Like, the textbook, or dictionary for being a person. I don’t know why they— but Targaryen was their first test, and she went nuts, she glitched, and they’ve been looking for her, alright?”
“There isn’t a tracker in the chip?” Alicent asks, sitting back down in her seat mostly because she feels the adrenaline wearing off and she’s getting dizzy again.
Karstark shakes his head. “No— not that I know of, no— I don’t know anything more, I swear, I swear.”
“You said Project Solstice wasn’t meant for long-term use. So what happens when it runs too long.”
Karstark swallows, blood leaking down his cheek. “Breakdown. Misfires. Mixed signals. The chip starts pulling old pathways. Stuff it was supposed to erase.”
“Memories,” Alicent says.
“Yes.” Karstark nods frantically. “Little ones at first. Then bigger pieces. They can’t control what comes back. I think that’s what happened when I was on that assignment with her.”
“What happened then.”
“I swear, I don’t know,” Karstark says. “She must’ve seen something, I don’t know—”
“What was the assignment?”
Karstark flinches. “Surveillance, simple run. Follow a target, report back, don’t engage. In and out.”
Alicent stares at him, eyes unfocused for a second as another wave of dizziness hits her. She swallows it down, hard. “Who was the target.”
Karstark shakes his head. “I don’t know—”
Alicent’s hand darts out, grabbing his jaw with surprising force for how close she is to passing out. “Who.”
Karstark breathes hard through his nose, pinned by her grip. “I’m serious— I don’t know his name. Some guy in a suit, one of Cole’s contacts. They didn’t give us details, just a photo. That’s it. I swear, I swear—”
Alicent releases his jaw, leans back, waits.
“I was low-level,” Karstark says, voice cracking. “They don’t tell us shit. We follow orders.”
Alicent wipes her bloody hand on her trousers. “Then what happened? When she glitched?”
“She just froze, like— a car backfired. Or someone yelled. Or she saw someone. I don’t know— she didn’t explain it to me.”
“That’s not enough,” Alicent snaps.
“I don’t have more!” Karstark yells back. “I swear, I swear. She stopped dead. Grabbed her head. Then she said something—”
Alicent stills. “What.”
Karstark looks away.
Laena moves instantly. “Say it.”
“A name,” Karstark says—
For a moment, Alicent feels her chest balloon, stupidly, with hope— that maybe it was her name, that maybe she’s still in Rhaenyra’s head somewhere, but Karstark continues.
“Harwin. I think.”
Alicent’s breath catches in her throat.
Harwin— Rhaenyra’s first partner. He had wanted to quit working for The Company, start a new life, and The Company had him killed for it. Alicent wonders if Rhaenyra has somehow found out about it, and that’s why she ran off. Alicent wonders how much it is that Rhaenyra remembers.
“I asked her who she was talking about, and she didn’t know,” Karstark says. “And that was it. I didn’t— I didn’t care to ask, ‘case she decided to fuck my shit up. Alright? That’s everything. That’s absolutely everything.”
Alicent feels herself fading fast, suddenly— everything from the evening is hitting her all at once. Seeing Rhaenyra again for the first time in a year— not just seeing her, but holding her, kissing her, talking to her, smelling her. Her head. Everything.
“…I believe you,” she says quietly, finally. Karstark seems to deflate a little with relief.
“Look,” he says softly, after a long pause. “I won’t tell The Company shit. Alright? I’ll keep my mouth shut. You have my word. I’ve no reason to talk. I— I know you care about her.”
You don’t know shit, Alicent wants to spit, but she remains quiet.
“You care about her,” Karstark says, desperation tinged in his voice despite his efforts at keeping cool. “I can see that. And— you’re hurt, you need to rest, you don’t want this on your hands, yeah—?”
Alicent pushes herself upright, shaky but steady enough to stay on her feet. Laena moves forward to help; Alicent waves her off without taking her eyes from Karstark.
He tries again. “Alicent— that’s your name?”
Alicent remembers how it felt— to hear the sound of Rhaenyra’s voice saying her name for the first time in so long, how it felt in her bones, everywhere—
“I’m trying to help you, Alicent,” Karstark says, nearly blubbering now. “I’m— I’m not your enemy. I gave you everything I know. Everything. Please. Just— let me walk. I don’t want any trouble.”
Alicent’s hand drifts to her waistband.
Laena stiffens. “Alicent.”
Alicent pulls the gun out; lifts the muzzle until it’s pointed straight between Karstark’s eyes.
Karstark’s breath stops. “Wait— wait— please— you said— you said you’d let me go—”
“I lied,” Alicent says quietly.
“No— no, please— I told you everything— I swear I told you everything— I swear—”
Alicent doesn’t blink.
Laena doesn’t move.
Karstark’s voice cracks, high and panicked. “Please— don’t— don’t— I helped you— I—”
Alicent fires— one shot, clean, point blank—
I never miss, I never miss, but I missed Rhaenyra, I missed my chance—
Karstark’s head snaps back, his body slumping in the restraints instantly, dead before his body crashes forward onto the table, eyes open.
Alicent stands there for a second, gun still raised, breathing shallow and uneven. Her knees almost buckle, and Laena catches her arm fast, but Alicent shoves her off.
“Let’s— let’s get this cleaned up,” she says faintly, staring at Karstark’s body.
And she walks out of the room and back up to where Lyman and Mysaria wait— both of them stand when they see the blood on her hand, her clothes. Even Syrax lets out an uneasy whine.
“...Right,” she says hoarsely to Lyman, eyes hooded despite her best efforts. “Post-concussion regime, then?”
Rhaenyra sits in the car she’d stolen, parked at the airport, staring— watching to see if there’s anyone who’s waiting for her, following her. Nothing.
Her head is still buzzing. Alicent’s voice is ringing through her head, and Rhaenyra can’t figure out what’s going on— everything’s in pieces, again, her brain is in pieces, and she hasn’t known what’s going on for so long now, since she’d woken up in that place, where Criston Cole had been there, where he’d told her that she’d volunteered for this program—
Project Solstice—
Her hands are shaking— something is wrong with her skull, her memory, everything, she wishes she could take her brain out and get into the ridges and clean it, crush it. And she’s known something is wrong for months, now, and it’s only getting worse.
She pops the glove compartment and finds a pair of sunglasses, slides them on to hide her eyes. Her breathing is still uneven.
The buzzing grows louder. Her vision blurs for a moment. She presses a palm to the centre of her forehead.
“It’s fine,” she whispers. “You’ve run before. You can run again.”
But a voice breaks through the static— Alicent’s voice, clearer than before.
Rhaenyra—
Don’t—
Rhaenyra flinches, grabbing her head with both hands.
“Stop,” she hisses. “Stop— get out—”
But the voice doesn’t leave.
It lingers.
It waits.
It feels like it belongs to someone she should know, someone she might have trusted, even.
“No,” Rhaenyra whispers. “No. I don’t know. I don’t—”
Her chest tightens, painful, like her own body is arguing with her.
She slams her fist against the dashboard once, hard enough to send another spike through her skull. She needs to move— distance, a plane, a train, anything that will take her out of this city before they find her.
Rhaenyra forces her hand to reach into the bag. Burner phone. Wallet—stolen. Passport—stolen. Everything she needs to disappear again.
And then—
She pulls out one of the only things that she knows to be hers out from the wallet.
A piece of paper with writing on it—
Hawaii, Kyoto, Vienna. Porch swing, fireflies.
Home.
Rhaenyra had found it in her pocket when she’d first woken up a year ago, not remembering a single thing about her own history; only her own name.
She’d kept it ever since without a clue as to what it meant— just that it was hers.
It wasn’t her own handwriting; that was the only thing she knew. Or maybe it was, and the chip had changed it.
Either way, as Rhaenyra stares down at it, something strikes her. Hard.
It’s something about the way the Os are written; they’re never complete circles.
The line starts, loops, and then stops just over the beginning, every time. The tiniest gap.
Rhaenyra is nearly certain that she has seen this handwriting before. Hours ago—
Alicent Florent, Room 1502—
When she was about to go up to Rhaenyra’s room, and Rhaenyra had noticed that she’d nice handwriting, and she’d noticed that when she wrote her Os they didn’t close all the way, and—
Rhaenyra fumbles for the key and ignites the engine.
***
When she parks in front of the hotel again, it’s the same; she waits, for a long while. Her guess— her hope, really— is that Alicent likely wouldn’t expect Rhaenyra to return to the hotel she’d found her in. Rhaenyra watches people go in and out, gets glimpses into the lobby, and nothing— it seems that Alicent had left without incident. Hasn’t been long enough that any police that would have been called would have already left.
Good.
If someone had called security after dragging Alicent out, police would’ve swarmed the place by now.
She watches the doors again as two women walk out laughing. A bellhop pulls a cart inside. A couple argues about something. Rhaenyra steps out of the car. It’s cold— she pulls her jacket tighter around herself, keeping her head down, and makes her way back to the bar, where the same bartender is still there.
“Hey, you,” he says, grinning. “Didn’t expect to see you back so soon—”
“The room order form Alicent gave to you,” Rhaenyra says, her eyes darting around to make sure no one’s watching. “Can I see it?”
The bartender frowns. “Sorry?”
“Where she filled out her name and her room number— before we left. Do you still have it?”
He looks confused, then wary. “Why? Did something happen?”
Rhaenyra, irritated and anxious now, shakes her head. “No. She just thinks she might have— put in the wrong room number, I’m just correcting it for her, yeah?”
The bartender studies her for a moment. “I just— we aren’t really allowed to give out guest information?”
“Come on,” Rhaenyra says, attempting to put her charm back on. “I just need to check something.”
The bartender hesitates. “I really shouldn’t—”
Rhaenyra leans in, lowering her voice. “Please. She’ll lose her mind if she sent room service to the wrong floor. Save me from hearing about it.”
He lets out a small huff.
“…Alright, alright. Let me see if it’s still here.”
He bends down behind the counter, flipping through a stack of slips. Rhaenyra’s knee bounces under the bar; she can feel her pulse in her throat. Every sound in the room feels like it’s directly up against her ear.
“Here,” the bartender says, pulling one out. “Alicent Florent. That her?”
Rhaenyra snatches it.“Yeah. Thanks.”
The bartender gives her another skeptical look. “Everything okay?”
Rhaenyra ignores him, eyes locked on the slip.
Alicent Florent, Room 1502
Her breath catches and her stomach drops. She pulls out the note from her wallet, sets it beside the slip, and cross-checks—
Hawaii, Kyoto, Vienna. Porch swing, fireflies.
Home.
The Os are the same— the I’s are slightly slanted the same, it’s all the same, it’s the same handwriting—
Rhaenyra’s stomach drops so hard she almost doubles over.
What the fuck is happening what is going on how is it the same—
“…Hey,” the bartender says, frowning now. “You sure she’s alright? You’re kinda freaking me out?”
Rhaenyra collects herself, folds the form in half, shoving it into her jacket. “Thanks. See you later.”
“Oi— wait—”
She then goes to the concierge; being a woman, Rhaenyra thinks she can likely get away with asking after another woman’s whereabouts. Her heart races as she waits for the person in front of her to finish asking about the shampoo, or some inane shit like that.
When it’s her turn, she steps up. He gives her a friendly smile.
“How can I help you?”
“Hi,” she says. “There was a woman, earlier— my friend, reddish-brown hair, curly, wearing, erm— a red dress, brown eyes. Really large.”
The concierge frowns like Rhaenyra’s still not finished her sentence.
“…What was?”
Rhaenyra blinks. “Beg pardon?”
“What was— what, er. Large?”
Rhaenyra stares at him, confused for half a second before she realizes what he thinks she meant.
She closes her eyes once, takes a long breath through her nose.
“Her eyes,” she says flatly. “Large eyes.”
“Oh.” He nods, relieved. “Right. Apologies — um— how can I help?”
“Have you seen her? We’ve plans to grab drinks, and— I haven’t seen her, I don’t think?”
The concierge thinks for a moment, and then snaps his fingers. “Actually— I think I did see her leaving, yes, earlier— with two other women, I think— perhaps they’ve gone to meet you already?”
“Two women,” she repeats. “You’re sure?”
“Yes,” the concierge says. “One on each side of her.” He pauses. “Actually— they seemed to be helping her walk. She looked… unwell.”
Rhaenyra swallows once, slow, trying to process that without giving anything away.
“Oh,” she says lightly. “She didn’t mention she was feeling off. Did they say where they were going?”
He shakes his head. “No, sorry.”
Rhaenyra nods once, forces a small smile. “Alright. Thank you.”
“Of course,” he says. “Hope your friend is alright.”
Rhaenyra turns away, maintaining her slow walk until she’s far enough from the desk—then she picks up her pace, heading for the doors, the buzzing returning in her skull, louder now that she has confirmation. She pulls the two papers out of her pocket upon getting back outside and into the car and stares at them.
Alicent Florent, 1502—
Hawaii, Kyoto, Vienna. Porch swing, fireflies.
Home.
Her head pounds— The Company couldn’t have planted this; it had been in her pocket when she’d woken up strapped to a gurney, Criston Cole looking down at her—
Good morning, Targaryen—
What on the gods’ green earth— what’s happening—
Relax, relax— we’re friends—
And then, with a strange clarity, Rhaenyra remembers after waking up— being sent somewhere by Criston, a new assignment, he'd said—
She remembers seeing Alicent before.
Unconscious, hooked up to tubes on a bed— kill her, Criston had ordered, before Rhaenyra had walked away to demand more answers from him, she remembers, but it's just out of reach; just the same loop of Alicent in a hospital bed in some dingy fucking bunker, a warehouse, maybe, playing over and over inside of her head, no matter how much she tries to extend it or play it back further, it won't work. Her head feels like it's going to split open.
Rhaenyra stuffs both papers back into her jacket and turns the key in the ignition. The engine growls to life.
She does not know what Alicent Florent— if that’s even her name— is to her. She doesn’t know why it is that her head started ringing the moment she saw her, how Alicent knew her name, why her handwriting is tucked into the fragments of a life Rhaenyra can’t recall, but she knows one thing—
Alicent knows something.
Alicent was someone to Rhaenyra before Rhaenyra lost herself.
Rhaenyra has to find her.