all the angels

Alicent wakes slowly.

“Hi,” Rhaenyra’s voice is warm in her ear, soft with the streams of morning light pouring in through the curtains. They must have forgotten to close them last night, Alicent thinks, and now the two of them rise with early sun glinting off of the glimmering grass of the front lawn. There is no snow, it has not snowed in months.

The arm around her waist tightens and Alicent leans into it, keeping her eyes closed as if it will make the morning last long, as if this moment can stretch on forever. Rhaenyra’s voice echos again against her, “Good morning, beautiful.”

“Morning,” Alicent murmurs, nestling deeper against the woman beside her, a private smile on her face that she hides in the pillow, letting Rhaenyra drag her ever closer.

“C’mon,” Rhaenyra eggs, her voice teasing, rife with affection as it so often is these days. “Look at me, Alicent.”

“No,” Alicent laughs as she brings one of the hands around her waist to her lips and kissing it softly. Warmth bleeds into her from the skin of Rhaenyra, heating her on a spring morning, the way Rhaenyra always does. Always so warm. 

Rhaenyra’s grip becomes firmer along with her voice, “Go on. Look at me.” 

Alicent’s brow furrows, eyes flinging open but not quite turning to face the woman behind her. She wants this moment to stretch forever. She cannot look at Rhaenyra, she does not know why, but she knows she can’t. She draws in a breath. 

“Look at me—” Rhaenyra continues to shout and Alicent caves. 

When Alicent turns, the room around them darkens, the morning sun turning cold, darkness seeping into every corner of the room. Rhaenyra’s face is gaunt—and she’s cold, so cold. Alicent shakes her, but she does not move, all life gone from her. Blood pours from glassy eyes like tears. 

Tears stream from Alicent’s own eyes, frantically searching for something, anything that  proves Rhaenyra still lives. Alicent lifts her shirt, finding bloodied words carved into the torso of the woman beside her ‘THE FLESH IS WEAK.’ 

There is only one thought in Alicent’s mind, carved into her very essence of being, over and over, lining her bones. This is all your fault. 

Alicent wakes. Sweat drenches her shirt and the clock reads half past three. Alicent looks around in the darkness of her room. Foolishly, she runs her hands over the sheets on the other side of her bed. They’re cold, as they should be. But Rhaenyra had been so… warm. 

***

December 11th, 1992

Alicent spends her morning staring at crime scene photos. An uneasiness settles within her; has ever since she woke this morning. She couldn’t make sense of her dream—were she and Rhaenyra meant to be lovers? The flesh is weak, Alicent knows the verse. Watch and pray so that you will not fall into temptation. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak. Desires of the flesh, desires of the heart, they are all the same to Alicent. All of them end in flame. Or, in the case of her dream, blood. She shivers. Her flesh has felt wrong ever since she woke, everything louder than it should, everything wrong. 

She can’t help but contemplate Rhaenyra’s role in her dream—beside her in bed, holding her tightly. Could they really have been anything but lovers? It was strange how... normal it had felt. Alicent couldn’t allow herself to linger on such a thing. Sometimes the subconscious crafted realities all of their own, it cannot mean too much. Still, something tugs at Alicent’s aching, waiting heart all morning. She decides to busy herself with work instead, pushing all the worried thoughts of her fractured mind to later. 

They finally have a name for their Jane Doe as was promptly delivered to Alicent this morning before she even had her coffee in her hand. Elia Torrence. Alicent plans to sit down with her husband when he arrives in New Haven, only Rhaenyra isn’t here yet. She looks at the clock—it’s half past nine. Rhaenyra is usually in by eight. Something fearful sits in the pit of her stomach, especially how Alicent had watched her go the previous night. If something happened to Rhaenyra after Alicent is the one that had her over—she would never be able to live with herself. Not if it happened again, not if it was because of her again. 

“Hey,” Rhaenyra’s voice yanks her out of where she had been leaning against the table, one hand on a coffee mug—the drink itself now cold and undrinkable. Alicent places it down. “Sorry, I was meeting with a realtor, she could only do this morning. Did I miss anything?” 

Relief floods through Alicent as she takes a minute to just stare at Rhaenyra, letting her paranoia slowly ebb away like a retreating tide. Rhaenyra is still looking at her and that’s when Alicent realizes she hasn’t said anything, “Oh—um, we have an ID. On the body.”

Rhaenyra nods, closing the office door behind her and joining Alicent by their board, arms crossing. “Run me through it.”

“Elia Torrence,” Alicent begins, “She was supposedly out of town visiting her mother, which is why her husband didn’t think to file a missing persons report until early this morning when he woke up for work and she still wasn’t home. She was supposed to arrive yesterday evening, never did. He gave police her description this morning, asked him to come down and take a look, it’s his wife.”

“Sad,” Rhaenyra hums, clutching her own coffee in her hand. “Husband—how old was she?”

“Twenty-four,” Alicent says, not far off from her guess at the crime scene. “They got married when she was nineteen.”

“How old was he?” Rhaenyra asks, brow furrowed as she stares at the crime scene photos. 

“Twenty-seven.” Alicent tries to hide her grimace. “And get this—he was a member of the church. He was her youth group leader and when she turned eighteen, they popped out in a relationship. She’d been going to the church with her mother since she was a kid, but the mother retired after the death of her father, moved upstate. Leaving her alone with just the husband and the church.” 

Rhaenyra, unlike Alicent, does not try to hide her grimace. “Gross. Whatever, are we talking to this guy?”

“I wonder if that’s why she got to be the sacrificial lamb,” Alicent muses, staring at the photos of Elia’s mutilated body on the screen. “Abandoned by her family, left to the hands of an older man. Sacrificed.”

“Wonder if he saw it that way.”

“We’re about to find out.” 

***

CASE FILE #8099 - TORRENCE, NICHOLAS. 001

December 11th, 1992

     SA.HIGHTOWER: Firstly, I’d like to offer my condolences for your wife. I hear she was an upstanding member of the church. 

     N.T: Thank you, she was. It was… how we met, our foundation. She loved it. And to have her body desecrated with something like that…

     SA.TARGARYEN: That’s actually what we wanted to speak to you about. The victims we have thus far have all had relations with this specific church in Litchfield. Is there anyone in your congregation that, you know, stands out? Maybe someone who didn’t like Elia, or likewise seemed to like her almost too much. Anything like that ring a bell.

     N.T: Well there was… not that it matters.

     SA.HIGHTOWER: Anything you know could be useful, seriously.

     N.T: When we got engaged, Leona Gould threw a bit of a… fit about it. Said it was immoral, wrong. But, obviously, she didn’t have much to do with it considering she’s been dead for months. God rest her soul.

     SA.HIGHTOWER: Was she the only one?

     N.T: [NOD]. Yes, everyone else was incredibly happy, in fact, many assumed it was going to happen already. Father Lawson played a huge role in helping me propose to her, in fact. He’s always been very supportive of us. Gosh, does he know? I haven’t even thought to tell anyone, my head has been so all over the place this morning. I had to call her mother first thing, right before I came here.

     SA.HIGHTOWER: My apologies. Is that the only incident you recall?

     N.T: Oh, another one, but this must have been back when she was a teenager—probably sixteen? Seventeen? That kid, Jonathan Leigh, he was always kind of an odd one, but I guess he asked her to the prom or something and she said yes to be polite, but he got very angry with her when she backed out later. I think he put his hands on her. But that was… years ago. You think he might have something to do with this? Almost eight years later?

     SA.TARGARYEN: Unfortunately, we can’t rule anything or anyone out. Yourself included, sorry, so we’ll ask that you remain accessible to us. And I appreciate you speaking with us today, it’s been very helpful.

     SA.HIGHTOWER: This is my card. If you remember anything else you think might be useful, do not hesitate to give me a call. And I mean anything. 

***

December 11th, 1992

“Two names on our board, it has to mean something,” Rhaenyra says the moment they’re back in their office and poor Nicholas Torrance is back on his way to Litchfield. He was clearly shaken up, disoriented by grief, but they had a job to do. There’s a chance he’ll remember something later, something that might be useful to them, but for now, Alicent has to work with what they have. “Leigh, wasn’t that the kid you almost tackled?”

Alicent just stares at her, arms crossed and head tilted, agitation lingering in her stance. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t seem like the violent type, Hightower, really—”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” Alicent’s voice raises more than she would like, stopping Rhaenyra dead in her tracks. The room snaps to a standstill, discomfort crawling up Alicent’s spine as she blinks back wet eyes—not tears, no. A shudder wracks through her as she pulls her gaze away from Rhaenyra’s. “You may have to interview him alone. He won’t be eager to speak to me. Harrold wouldn’t like it either, I—I made a fool of myself, I should be ashamed.” 

Alicent turns around, bracing her hands against the wood of the table, catching her breath. These last few days have been too much, everything has been too much. She feels it all—the way a deer hears the snap of a tree branch, the babbling of the river, she feels all of it crawling down her skin each and every moment. Rhaenyra’s hand is on her shoulder and Alicent doesn’t think, she just reacts—whipping around and grabbing Rhaenyra’s wrist in a firm, bruising grip. She feels separate from herself, acting without conscience. 

“Why don’t we take a day?” Rhaenyra says, eyes wide. “This is a heavy case and a difficult one. Come look at apartments with me.”

Alicent blinks, snapping herself out of her stupor, letting go of Rhaenyra. She runs a hand through her hair, tying it back into a ponytail before taking it out and doing it once more. Rhaenyra makes no comment. “What?”

“Yeah, well, I figured if we’re going to keep working together, I should probably get out of that stupid motel,” Rhaenyra explains with a shrug as if Alicent had not just had a small freak out and lightly manhandled her. “Just come with me. It’ll be nice to think about something else.” 

“There’s a murderer on the loose,” is all Alicent says in response, though she can see it in Rhaenyra’s eyes that this is a battle she is going to lose. Rhaenyra has a way of getting what she wants, Alicent thinks, and it’s interesting to see—less interesting, more irritating when it is used against her. “And you’re going… house hunting?”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra nods, shoving her hands in her pockets and looking Alicent up and down. “It’s a rare nice day out and the murderer will still be on the loose when we get back. You’re not going to solve anything like this, Alicent. You’re clearly rattled—”

“Don’t tell me what I am,” Alicent spits, but it’s tired, her voice is exhausted. She caught her reflection in the mirror this morning—bags under her eyes and her skin sullen and pale. She had spent most of the night meticulously cleaning her house. She only got about two hours of sleep. She doesn’t mind such a thing—every time she sleeps lately, she dreams of David or her father. Sometimes the two combine to create a monster of her own making. Now though, dreams of Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra’s expression softens. She takes a step closer to Alicent, but she doesn’t reach out to touch her again for which Alicent is grateful. She just tilts her head, looking at Alicent expectantly as if Alicent’s reaction is telling her everything she needs to know. “Let’s take the day. We can come back with fresh eyes and clear heads. Last night was… a lot. These last couple of weeks have been a lot.” 

Last couple of weeks, Alicent thinks with a sort of humor to it. Weeks for Rhaenyra, sure, but it’s been months for Alicent. Years. Years of running from everything that raised her, from pushing down a past that will follow her until she falls to her grave. Rhaenyra doesn’t ask her why she’s amused, she just goes off—presumably to call her realtor, forcing Alicent to wait. 

The concept of taking a day had never occurred to her simply because when Alicent was on a case, it was quite literally the only thing she possessed the ability to think about until it was solved. She doesn’t think a case has truly stumped her like this one since the beginning of her career. Alicent grabs her pen and writes the most notable loose ends in her notepad. 

— speak to Jonathan Leigh 

— access to Gould daughters? 

— poppies and lilies. 

She might be going crazy. They’re at the very least going in circles—that much she knows. Even so, she rips out the notebook page and sticks it to the board, figuring it’ll be a good reminder for when they’re back in the office.

Rhaenyra peers back in the door, a shit-eating grin on her face. “House hunting time.” 

***

Alicent does not like house hunting. It had been painful enough when she was looking for her own place and now she had the house she was going to die in because she never wanted to look for a house ever again. However, with Rhaenyra driving them around (Alicent is only a little fearful, but it’s okay because Alicent knows most of New Haven by heart), it’s almost fun. She doesn’t listen to the radio, she currently has a tape of Depeche Mode’s album Violator playing quietly. Alicent has never been one to listen to much music. Growing up, her father only ever played gospel records and even then it was very rare. She grew up in a silent and still house and she has been in a silent and still house ever since. 

Rhaenyra, however, cannot be quiet for a single moment. In the time it takes for the tape to reset, she’s drumming her hands on the steering wheel, humming the tune of whatever the last song on the album was, looking at street signs (even though Alicent is the one telling her where to go most of the time). 

Rhaenyra’s realtor is a nice woman named Kelly who keeps smiling at the two of them in a tense sort of way—too much gum showing and her lips pulled thin. The woman must know what they do for work. Alicent can’t blame her—what they do tends to make most people uncomfortable. She keeps glancing between the two of them, eyes wide and curious as they walk around each house.

“I don’t like this one,” Alicent hums, looking around. “I don’t like something so… closed off. I don’t like knowing what could be hiding where I can’t see.” 

Rhaenyra nods, considering her opinion, “Especially when we apparently have a killer hunting us.”

Alicent snorts. “I mean—my opinion doesn’t really matter. This one doesn’t feel like you, though.”

They stand in a small, closed off kitchen, both leaning against opposite counters. Kelly is off checking on something, but Alicent can hear her footsteps traipsing around the house. Rhaenyra tilts her head, hands in her pockets as she asks, “Oh, yeah? And what does?”

Alicent narrows her eyes at her, before relenting, “You seem like the type… to like a big kitchen. With an island, maybe, if you want to get fancy. Also, there’s no pantry space in here which means you’ll be stuck with all your cans in miscellaneous cabinets like a disgruntled uni student. No, you’re not getting this one.”

“Oh, I’m not?” Rhaenyra teases, clearly entertained by Alicent’s inherent passion for kitchen formatting. She likes kitchens that make sense. Her kitchen is perfect. She has an island with cabinets below it, her fridge is only one counter over from her stove and she has a pantry not far from either of those. It’s arguably her favorite room in her own home. 

“So,” Kelly re-enters the kitchen, clearly trying to look as if she has not been listening to their entire conversation. Alicent straightens, tensing up as she’s reminded they’re in the presence of a stranger. “How long have you two been… together?” 

All of the color drains from Alicent’s face and words fail her. Rhaenyra snorts out a quiet laugh, hiding it behind her hand, “Oh, no—when I said partners, we’re—we’re agents. Not… ha. No, not together. Like that.”

Something far too similar to relief seems to flood Kelly’s face as she looks between the two of them once more, an elated yet still awkward laugh falling from her lips. “Oh! How silly of me to assume. You just seemed so—cohesive. Anyways, shall we move on?”

Alicent still can’t comprehend the comment—cohesive? What does that even mean? Sure, the two of them work well together, but Alicent doesn’t think she really feels like half of anything. She isn’t the type that seems like she’s part of a matching set. No, Alicent has always radiated an aching sense of loneliness. She doesn’t think anyone has ever once assumed Alicent was in a relationship. It’s hitting her weirdly, especially considering it’s Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra, whom Alicent just had a far too realistic dream involving the two of them being very much together. 

She thought of waking up with Rhaenyra holding her on a spring morning—how real it had felt, how natural. She shivers, following Rhaenyra and Kelly through the house, while Rhaenyra is going off about looking for something more open. Alicent just blindly follows Rhaenyra back to the car, still reeling.

“Did she break you? Are you broken?” Rhaenyra teases, starting the car up. “God, don’t tell me you’re thinking about the case again— please.” 

“No, no, I’m not,” Alicent bristles, making herself small in the passenger seat. “I just… she thought we were… together.” 

Rhaenyra barks out a laugh, a casual, easy noise that Alicent feels down to her core, rustling the ends of her fingertips. “Yeah, well, that’s just the unfortunate side effect of hanging around someone who looks very much like a lesbian, Alicent. Most people kind of have me figured out within two seconds of meeting me.”

“I didn’t,” Alicent whispers, almost embarrassed.

“You’re not most people.” 

***

Rhaenyra finds a house she likes by the end of the day. Not far from Alicent’s and within her budget after a bit of haggling. It’s an open concept—older, like Alicent’s, built in the mid-60s. Alicent had walked around the small home with a quiet smile on her face and Rhaenyra had just watched her before going and having a hushed conversation with Kelly. The two of them head out to a celebratory dinner of shitty diner burgers and beer and for once, Alicent is glad to not be in the office working on something.

“I like seeing you smile, Hightower,” Rhaenyra comments halfway through their meal, leaning back against her side of the booth as her fingers tease at the neck of her beer bottle. Alicent just watches them, the way she circles the rim, soaking up the condensation with her fingertip before slowly bringing the bottle to her lips. Alicent is utterly mesmerized.

“I had a dream about you,” Alicent says before she can help herself, her cheeks flushing slightly pink as she says this. Rhaenyra perks up, eyebrows raising as she sits forward and Alicent suddenly regrets saying anything at all. “Oh, don’t look so excited—now, I’m not going to tell you what it was.”

“Was it hot?” Rhaenyra asks, clearly joking, “Are you secretly in love with me?”

Alicent scoffs, rolling her eyes as she leans back and takes a hearty swig of her drink if only to avoid answering the question. Hot is absolutely the wrong word, but she still finds herself blushing before she can help herself which means Rhaenyra is absolutely going to get the wrong idea. “Rhaenyra, if I was having sex dreams about you, I would certainly not tell you.”

“Unless it was all a ruse so you could sleep with me. There was no dream, you just wanted to put the idea in my head.”

She stills, a shaky hand placing her drink down on the table. “Rhaenyra, I’m not—” 

“I know,” Rhaenyra cuts her off, voice surprisingly earnest. Something in Alicent settles. “Tell me about your dream, Hightower.”

Alicent sighs, picking at her cuticles as the latter half of her meal goes uneaten. As soon as the ending of her dream rises to the surface of her mind once more, her appetite almost entirely retreats. “Well, it was actually quite sweet. Until you died horribly at the hands of our killer.”

Despite Alicent’s wary tone, Rhaenyra seems unbothered, pressing a hand to her heart in mock fear. “Don’t tell me you’re the type to have prophetic dreams.”

This earns a scoff from Alicent, shaking her head slightly. “No, usually I just dream about the horrific things that have already happened to me. Like finding David or my fath—never mind. It’s not important.”

Rhaenyra looks like she doesn’t believe that, tilting her head and staring Alicent down as if she’s trying to figure her out. Alicent hasn’t forgotten what she shared about her father the previous night, how oddly open she had been with Rhaenyra. Alicent has never had someone to tell her secrets to before. It was an uncomfortable feeling—being known. She isn’t sure what to do with it, with any of it. 

“Would you like to know what I dreamed last night?” Rhaenyra asks, clearly offering an olive branch, something to take Alicent’s mind off of it. Alicent just shrugs. “I was just… driving. It was all snowy, at least, I thought it was snow, but I think… I think it might’ve been ash? I don’t know what from, but something smelled like it was burning, so I’m thinking it was some kind of ash. I couldn’t investigate it, though, because all I could do was… drive. It was so weird. I felt like I was still moving when I woke up. Weird, right?”

“I think driving in dreams means you lack direction.”

Rhaenyra groans, “Of course, you’re one of those dream interpretation people. I wouldn’t be worried about my dreams, Alicent, you’re the one dreaming about us being lovers.”

“I didn’t—”

“It was all over your face,” Rhaenyra laughs, sobering a bit when she sees Alicent’s irritated expression. “Oh, come on, it’s very normal to randomly have a romantic dream about someone in your life. One time, I dreamt I was in a longtime relationship with the mailroom guy just because I saw him everyday. It was weird, for like two days, I thought maybe I liked men, it was harrowing. I’m probably just popping up because we see each other every day and you’re worried about me.”

Alicent rolls her eyes, avoiding Rhaenyra’s gaze. “Why would I be worried about you?”

When she does eventually lift her eyes, she sees Rhaenyra already staring at her, a soft, understanding expression on her face. “Because we both know what happened to your last partner. I’m not going anywhere, Alicent, okay? Promise.”

“You can’t promise me that,” Alicent huffs, feeling more and more irritated with this conversation. It’s not normal to have a dream in which she’s in love with someone—much less a woman. Alicent has never had a dream like that in her life, certainly not one where she felt so… content. It was strange. She didn’t like it. She didn’t know what to do about it at all and Rhaenyra was not helping. She did have a point, though—Alicent did worry about her. A little bit. Not so much that she would admit it to Rhaenyra’s face. 

“Watch me,” Rhaenyra says instead, bracing her elbow against the table and holding out a pinky. 

Alicent just stares at her for a long moment, but she can tell Rhaenyra isn’t budging. “You’re ridiculous.” 

Even so, she raises her hand and intertwines her pinky with Rhaenyra’s. Rhaenyra’s skin is so warm, just like her dream, just like the hand Alicent had pressed her lips to. She can’t stop thinking about it as she looks over at Rhaenyra. Then, all she can see is the life draining from her eyes—the freezing cold of a corpse in her bed. She yanks her hand away a bit too quick to be inconspicuous, but Rhaenyra doesn’t say anything. 

She shrinks further against her seat, picking at her now cold fries, content to let Rhaenyra handle the conversation for the remainder of their dinner. Her mind goes back to the case, it always does. Alicent thinks of the verse from her dream. Desire. It all goes back to desire. And Alicent is determined to figure out why.