Chapter 1: New Beginning 

…

Third Pov

In the shadowy depths of a narrow alley in Lannisport, the faint sound of a child's sobbing echoed off the grimy stone walls.

A young girl, no more than ten namedays old, cradled the bloodied and broken body of a boy who looked to be around twelve. 

His name was Richard, an orphan like her, his small frame battered and bruised from head to toe. Most alarming were the deep gashes on his head, still seeping blood.

The girl, Alicent, had black hair, blue eyes, and a young face. Her tiny hands, smeared with his blood, shook him desperately. 

Her voice trembled with fear and sorrow as she cried, "Please, Richard, wake up! I can't live without you. Please, Richard!" Her pleas went unanswered as Richard's body lay motionless and lifeless in her arms.

To Alicent, Richard was the only light in her godforsaken world. For as long as she could remember, they had been inseparable. Richard had always been her protector, tirelessly scavenging and finding food for her amid the harsh streets of Lannisport.

Alicent couldn't fathom life without him. The thought of starvation loomed ominously, casting a grim shadow over her mind. She knew all too well the fate that awaited girls who lacked protection—many were forced to sell themselves in exchange for safety and sustenance. 

Yet, Alicent refused to entertain such a notion. As a little girl navigating the unforgiving streets, every scenario she envisioned without Richard led to a dark and hopeless end.

Alicent's tears streamed down her cheeks, her sobs filling the alley until exhaustion took her voice. Her eyes, swollen and blurred from crying, barely registered the scene before her. 

Unbeknownst to her, something miraculous was unfolding. Richard's wounds, the deep gashes and dark bruises, were mending themselves at an unnatural pace. Skin stitched itself back together, and the color returned to his pale cheeks.

Alicent, wiping her tear-filled eyes, was slow to realize what was happening. But then she felt it—a slight movement, the faint rise and fall of Richard's chest. 

She froze, hope and fear warring within her, and looked down to see his once grievous injuries now completely healed. Shock and terror gripped her heart. This scene was unfamiliar to her.

Moments later, Richard's eyes fluttered open. Alicent, relief overwhelming her fear, threw her arms around him, clutching him tightly. In that moment, she cared not for the how or why of his miraculous recovery. All that mattered was that Richard was alive, and for now, that was enough.

---

Richard's POV

My name is Richard. I'm twelve namesday old, and for as long as I can remember, I've been an orphan. I have no idea who my parents were, no memory of them at all. 

But one thing is certain: they must have had blonde hair and green eyes. These are the only features I know for sure, the only legacy they left me.

My tale begins in Lannisport, I was born in the year 260 AC. 

Born into obscurity, I was left at the orphanage as a mere babe. For eight long years, I endured the harsh treatment of those who ran the place before I could bear it no longer.

The truth of the orphanage was a somber one. The young girls, mere teens, faced mistreatment by those who were meant to care for them. 

Some were sent away under mysterious circumstances. The boys fared no better, enduring punishment and meager rations.

Upon learning of their plight, I made my decision. Enough was enough. I fled the orphanage. As I made my escape, a young girl by the name of Alicent witnessed my departure and followed. 

She was but a child, innocent and pure, and I could not bear to see her suffer the same fate as the others.

Together, at the tender ages of eight and six, Alicent and I took to the unforgiving streets of Lannisport.

Survival demanded harsh measures, and I delved into the world of petty theft—stealing from food stalls, picking pockets, doing whatever was necessary to put food in our bellies. 

Though I faced failure on occasion, I always managed to slip away, evading capture and providing for Alicent and myself.

On my eleventh nameday, I was approached by a pair of middle aged ruffians who saw potential in me. 

Naively, I believed they were my allies at first, but as things went on I found out that I was nothing but a tool to get them rich. I accepted the fact that They offered protection in exchange for my skills as a street urchin—a deal I was willing to accept.

Little did I know the true cost of their protection. Failure incurred stern reprimands, leaving me disheartened and battered. 

Though I escaped physical scars, my heart bore the weight of many bruises inflicted by their harsh treatment. I endured it all, knowing that Alicent's safety was paramount— or so I thought.

On the eve of my twelfth nameday, as I plied my trade in the bustling streets, the city guards discovered me. 

Though I managed to evade capture, I intentionally led them straight to the hideout of the ruffians. This was a deliberate move on my part.

Weeks prior to this, the ruffians had made dire threats against Alicent, using her safety as leverage to ensure I met their demands. 

They warned of harm or even the possibility of selling her off if I failed to meet their quotas. That was a line I could not allow them to cross, for I could not bear to see harm come to Alicent. After that, I refused to continue doing their bidding. Thus, I began to craft a plan to bring them down.

The plan was straightforward: get caught in the act of pickpocketing, linger long enough for the guards to be alerted, and then run away and lead the guards to the ruffians' hideout. 

I knew that illegal activities were rampant in the ruffian hideout, and the guards would know what to do.

The plan worked. The guards descended upon the hideout, capturing many of the ruffians. Some managed to flee, but I knew I could not escape my fate. I hurried back to our own hideout, a dim alley strewn with refuse.

As I returned, Alicent greeted me with excitement, cooking up dinner for the both of us. I rushed to her and instructed her to hide because I was in grave danger. She obeyed, disappearing beneath a mound of trash and rubble.

I knew my time had come. While the guards were busy capturing the ruffians, their leader, Rodric, managed to escape. He spotted me as I was leaving the scene, his face contorted with rage. Knowing that I was found out, I accepted my fate and waited. 

I knew he and his goons would come for revenge. Just like that, moments later, the ruffians caught up with me, and my story came to a close. 

They beat me relentlessly and tried to break my spirit. The amount of pain and suffering I felt was overwhelming. But I didn't give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry out; I remained silent throughout.

The ordeal seemed to last an eternity, but it finally ended when one of them struck me on the head, and darkness claimed me.

When I died, I found myself in a dark place where my soul intertwined with another. Suddenly, my soul and the other began to fight for dominance. 

I didn't understand what was happening, but as I felt the other soul striving to win, I began to lose consciousness. It was then I realized I needed to prevail. If I didn't, I had a foreboding sense that I would lose my own soul, consumed by the other, serving only its desires.

With sheer determination, I battled for dominance against the other soul. Ultimately, I emerged victorious. In an instant, I gained the memories of the other soul.

The other soul belonged to a man named John Falcon, a gluttonous individual who indulged in excess until his untimely demise.

I was repulsed by the way he lived his life. Not only was he overly indulgent, but he also had a disturbing porn addiction and wild sexual fantasies that made me shiver to my core. I'm relieved that he doesn't have control over my thoughts because I wouldn't want to think and act like him.

From his memories, I learned that my world was both a TV show and a book series. Additionally, this rotund fellow encountered a god who bestowed upon him the abilities of Wolverine.

The world I inhabit is known as "A Song of Ice and Fire" in the books and "Game of Thrones" in the TV show. While they are essentially the same, there are subtle and big differences between the two versions. As for which one I am in, I have no way of knowing for certain.

Delving into his memories, I discovered who this Wolverine was, he was a character from Marvel comic books and movies. 

Wolverine possessed an extraordinary healing factor, rendering him nearly unkillable. His skeleton was reinforced with adamantium, granting him razor-sharp claws and unparalleled durability. In addition to his physical enhancements, Wolverine was a master of hand-to-hand combat, boasting superhuman strength, stamina, speed, agility, reflexes, and heightened senses.

If I had my body right now, my mouth would be watering. These abilities were absolutely tantalizing.

Now that the soul binding is complete, and from what I can remember of his conversation with God, I should be ready to assimilate back into my body. Just as I thought this, a white light appeared, and I immediately headed in that direction because I knew I would see Alicent again.

…

Third POV

Richard, who had returned from the dead, slowly opened his eyes. As his vision cleared, he felt Alicent's desperate embrace. 

"Thank you, thank you for being alive," Alicent cried hysterically. Richard, feeling her embrace and warmth, gave a faint smile and hugged her back.

The sky above was dark. It must have been a few hours since his death and until he regained consciousness. Before he died, it had been afternoon, but now the sun was setting, signaling evening's approach.

"I'm fine now, I'm fine," Richard reassured, patting Alicent's back gently. "I will never let this happen again. Please, stop crying."

After a moment, Alicent released her embrace and smiled, her tears drying. "Alright, I won't cry," she said.

Richard rose to his feet and extended his hand to Alicent. "Now then, let's eat before it gets dark."

Alicent nodded, but as Richard surveyed their surroundings, he noticed the destruction. 

The food Alicent had been cooking was ruined, the ruffian who had attacked him had also wrecked the food, fireplace, and the small shelter they had built from wood and tattered blankets.

"They destroyed the food I was cooking for you," Alicent said, her eyes burning with anger.

Seeing her distress, Richard patted her head and smiled. "Don't worry. We'll use our saved rations." He dove into the rubble and retrieved a leather bag. Bringing it to Alicent, he untied the rope and opened it.

Inside were a few loaves of bread, some fruit, and several pouches full of copper coins. The bread and fruit were backup rations, and the copper coins were saved from Richard's pickpocketing. 

Despite paying protection fees to the ruffians, he had managed to save 158 copper coins and 6 silver coins. 

This money could buy new clothes, a better shelter, or even nights at inns. But as a twelve-year-old orphan, Richard had been cautious. If other beggars saw them in fine clothes, it would invite trouble.

But now, with his newfound abilities, he was confident in his ability to protect both the money and Alicent. He handed a loaf of bread to her, and she thanked him, munching happily. Richard smiled, patting her head again, and took a piece for himself.

After they finished eating, Richard tied the bag and hid it in the rubble. As night fell, they prepared to sleep. Alicent gathered blankets and rags, fashioning a makeshift bed for them. They lay down, and Richard sang Alicent to sleep. Once she was asleep, he got up, eager to test his new abilities.

He looked at his hands and imagined the claws emerging. Slowly, painfully, the Adamantium claws slid out, accompanied by the rearranging of his bones and the flow of blood. Despite the pain, Richard smiled. He had already died once; this was nothing.

Moving away from Alicent to avoid waking her, he approached the stone wall of the alley and swiped his right hand against it. The claws cut through the stone with a screeching sound. Richard grinned. With these powers, he could exact his revenge.

Throughout the shadowed hours of the night, Richard tested his newfound abilities with relentless focus. 

He made a small cut to witness the miraculous healing, practiced the swift emergence and retraction of his claws, and pushed his enhanced physical prowess to its limits—leaping, sprinting, and enduring impacts without faltering.

His senses, too, had transformed into something extraordinary. He could hear the faintest whispers carried on the wind and detect the metallic scent of his own blood, spilled during his recent ordeal, from twenty feet away. 

Even more astounding, the moaning sounds from a distant brothel, though two blocks distant, reached his ears with startling clarity. As he rested out his senses he continue to hear fighting, fucking, and all the nastiness. He could hear and smell the filth that pervaded the streets of Lannisport at night. 

Determined to find a more suitable refuge for himself and Alicent, he resolved that they needed to seek out a better place, such as a clean inn or a decent house.

Though he now wielded great power, Alicent remained a fragile girl, unable to protect herself. With this in mind, he made his decision. 

Tomorrow, he would find an inn to stay, purchase new clothes, and set his plans for revenge into motion.

Richard looked at the innocent, sweet-faced Alicent sound asleep. He sighed and quietly whispered, "So much to do tomorrow, but don't worry. Everything I do is for us."

As the hours waned and dawn's first light crept over the horizon, Richard delved deeper into the memories of John Falcon, unlocking the full extent of the powers bestowed upon him. 

With each revelation, his confidence grew, and he knew without a doubt: he possessed the formidable abilities of the legendary Wolverine. 

Armed with these gifts, he resolved to seek justice against those who had wronged him. None would escape his retribution.

…

Richard POV

Throughout the night, I had relentlessly tested my Wolverine abilities. To my surprise, I did not feel tired at all, which meant I grew fatigued far less quickly than an ordinary human. This newfound stamina would serve me well in the nights to come.

After concluding my experiments with my Wolverine powers for the night, I needed to cleanse myself of blood and find new clothing. 

I made my way to the sea near the Lannisport docks to wash away the remnants of battle. This experience was invigorating, as the cover of darkness made it much easier to move unseen.

I ventured to the water near the harbor of Lannisport and took a short swim to cleanse myself thoroughly. 

To my surprise, I did not sink as I had feared, despite my Adamantium bones. Once I was clean, I discarded my wet, ragged clothes.

With nothing to wear, I headed to a cloth shop that I knew of. Using my claws like keys, I extended one and turned the lock, bypassing any need for complex lock-picking skills. 

Thus, I gained entry to the store. Inside, I found garments that fit me well. I donned a white long-sleeve shirt made of silk and fine linen, and trousers of similar quality—both a marked improvement over my previous attire.

Standing at 5'10", unusually tall for a boy of twelve name days, I was often mistaken for someone older. My long golden hair, which often obscured my face, contributed to this misconception. 

It was time for a haircut. I found a pair of scissors in the shop and, using a nearby mirror, set about cutting my hair. 

Drawing on the memories of John Falcon, I chose a stylish cut that highlighted my features. After ten minutes, I stared at my reflection, seeing a visage that could rival any noble man, with striking blood golden hair and green eyes that hinted at a noble lineage. 

I now sported medium-length curly hair, which elegantly framed my striking green eyes. My face was handsome and well-proportioned, with chiseled features that bespoke a noble bearing.

For a moment I thought about the identity of my parents, I of course snapped out of my thoughts. After all, my past and parentage mattered little; they had never been there for me and might well be dead. 

My focus shifted to Alicent, who still relied on me. I selected a beautiful blue dress for her, knowing she deserved at least this small comfort. 

Though slightly malnourished, she was otherwise healthy, her slim frame a testament to our struggles and my efforts to keep her fed.

After securing the shop and leaving a telltale mark in the lock from my claws, I ventured back to our hideout. 

The darkness of the store and harbor was no obstacle; my enhanced senses allowed me to navigate effortlessly. 

With Alicent's dress in hand, I made my way across town, scaling a building with the aid of my claws. From rooftop to rooftop, I leaped, the exhilaration of the night air rushing past me. My newfound strength and agility made the journey swift.

As I reached our base, I jumped down from a height of twenty-five feet, landing in a crouch with one knee and one hand absorbing the impact. The pain was fleeting, swiftly erased by my healing factor, and my new clothes remained intact.

Entering the alley, I found Alicent still soundly asleep. I smiled and put down the clothes next to her and lay down with her. With that I went into slumber.

I was able to accomplish all of this in pitch darkness. With the Wolverine template, I could see perfectly in the dead of night. This ability was incredibly helpful, especially during the night.

…

Alicent POV

My name is Alicent, I have seen ten name days. I was born in Lannisport in the year 262 AC. Since I was six, I have been surviving on the streets of this city. 

It has been four years since I fled the orphanage, escaping with my savior Richard, who is two years my senior. He is the most important person in my world.

From the fleeting memories of my early years, I recall being born to a courtesan mother named Maria. She was a woman of striking beauty, who cherished me with a tenderness akin to the care one might bestow upon a delicate flower. 

Maria was a good mother who shielded me from harm, doing everything in her power to feed and protect me. To me, she was perfect.

From my early memories, my mother was beautiful. Her ebony hair flowed like the darkest night, cascading down her back and perfectly complementing her captivating sapphire eyes.

When I reached my fifth nameday, my mother sent me to an orphanage for my own protection. She was a courtesan, plying her trade in the brothels of Lannisport. 

Fearing I might share her fate, she made the heart-wrenching decision to part with me, hoping I would find a better, more honorable life.

My mother, Maria, sent me away, and from that day forth, I never saw her again. Upon arriving at the orphanage, I gradually adapted to my new life. Despite the hardships, I forged many friendships with the other girls there, finding solace in their company.

But on my sixth name day, a shadow fell upon one of my friends. Sara, one of the older girls, was taken advantage of by a middle-aged orphanage worker. 

From that day forward, the light in her eyes dimmed, and her once vibrant happiness faded away. Though she never spoke of what transpired, I knew the truth. She bore the same haunted look my mother had when returning from her work.

I tried to cheer her up, but her eyes remained hollow and devoid of life. Several weeks later, she vanished without a trace, leaving behind only whispers and unanswered questions. 

Though I did not know the exact details of her fate, I was certain it was entwined with the vile deeds of the orphanage worker. 

After that day, I vowed to flee the orphanage. I wouldn't wait until I was old enough to face a similar fate. 

This place held no refuge, no haven; it was as dismal as the brothels where my mother toiled. In her world, at least, I had known a semblance of security.

Under the cloak of night, I stealthily slipped out of my room, the silence of the orphanage enveloping me like a shroud. 

As I crept through the dimly lit corridors, I caught sight of a figure lurking in the shadows. Drawing closer, I discerned the silhouette of a boy, barely visible in the darkness. 

He Initiated a conversation, from his words I uncovered his identity. He revealed himself as Richard, a lad of eight name days, two years my senior. 

Richard's golden blonde hair shone in the light, and his bright green eyes were captivating. Even at a young age, he showed the early signs of mature features.

To my surprise, he harbored the same fervent desire as I did – to escape the confinements of the orphanage. 

With a mixture of apprehension and hope, I approached him and timidly requested to join him in his daring escape. To my immense relief, he agreed, and together, we embarked on our clandestine journey into the unknown.

For the next four years, I leaned on him for protection and sustenance on the unforgiving streets of Lannisport. 

Our bond grew stronger with each passing day, his presence becoming as vital to me as the air I breathed. Richard etched his place in my heart, ascending to the pedestal once reserved for my mother.

He honed his skills as a deft thief, upon whom I came to rely. 

I refused to remain idle. I embraced the womanly duties of cooking, sewing, washing clothes, and tending to our makeshift shelter, determined to contribute to our survival in any way I could.

One afternoon, an abrupt interruption shattered the calm that was our life. With the aroma of chicken stew wafting through the air, I tended to our meal, unaware of the impending chaos. 

Suddenly, Richard returned, breathless and urgent. Without explanation, he beckoned me to hide. 

Following his command, I swiftly concealed myself among the debris and rubble, about ten feet from where I had been cooking, the clang of metal and distant shouts echoing ominously in the air.

Following the unsettling turn of events, my worst nightmare unfolded: the sight of Richard in peril. A horde of ruffians descended upon him, their presence heralding an ominous cloud of impending danger. 

With ruthless brutality, they subjected Richard to a relentless onslaught, each blow inflicting a new layer of agony upon him. Hours stretched into eternity as he endured unimaginable suffering. 

From my hidden refuge, I bore witness to the harrowing scene, my heart wrenching with a profound sense of dread and despair, my hands trembling with the overwhelming urge to intervene, yet knowing all too well the futility of my actions in the face of such overwhelming cruelty.

Tears welled in my eyes as I beheld the brutal spectacle of Richard being relentlessly pummeled. Though he remained eerily silent, the silent screams of agony painted vividly across his countenance. 

With each merciless strike, my heart twisted in torment, bearing witness to the suffering of the one closest to me, a pain as raw and searing as any wound inflicted upon his battered frame.

The vicious assault came to an abrupt halt when one of the ruffians delivered a powerful kick to the back of Richard's head. With a grim thud, Richard slumped to the ground, his body lying motionless and still. 

A solemn hush fell over the chaotic scene, the air heavy with the weight of the moment as the reality of the situation sank in.

Following Richard's incapacitation, the ruffians proceeded to wreak havoc upon the shelter I had painstakingly crafted for us. 

With malicious intent, they spat into the soup I had been preparing and callously kicked it over, the contents spilling onto the floor in a messy display of contempt.

Amidst the chaos, one of the ruffians issued a chilling decree, commanding his cohorts to hunt me down. Their sinister intentions made clear, they spoke of having their way with me before selling me off like chattel.

Hiding deeper within the refuge of the trash and rubble, I remained concealed, my heart pounding with fear as I prayed for their departure. 

Amidst the tense moments, one of the ruffians approached dangerously close to my hiding spot. However, upon catching a whiff of the refuse surrounding me, he quickly abandoned the search amidst a grimace of disgust, sparing me from detection.

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, I remained hidden until I was certain they had departed. With cautious steps, I emerged from my concealment, the urgency of the moment propelling me forward as I hurried to Richard's still form. 

The debris shifted beneath my feet as I navigated the scattered remnants of our shelter, each step a silent prayer for Richard's safety.

As I reached his side, my heart clenched at the sight of him lying there, unmoving. He smelt of metallic blood, his body bruised and bloodied. 

With trembling hands, I knelt beside him, my fingers brushing against his cold skin. Panic and fear surged through me as I desperately searched for any sign of life, my mind racing with a torrent of worries and what-ifs.

With a heavy heart and tears streaming down my face, I began to shake him gently, calling out his name in a voice choked with emotion. 

Each futile attempt to rouse him only deepened the ache in my chest, and it felt as though the weight of the world was pressing down upon me.

In that moment, as I clung to him, my tears flowed endlessly, cascading down my cheeks in an unstoppable torrent. 

It was the most I had ever cried, the anguish of the situation threatening to consume me whole.

In the grip of fear, my mind swirled with uncertainty. How could I go on without him? He was my everything. 

Time seemed to stretch into eternity as I remained by his lifeless form, my heart heavy with grief.

But then, in a moment that defied all logic, I beheld the impossible. His wounds, once grievous and fatal, vanished before my eyes. 

Tears blurred my vision, preventing me from comprehending what had transpired.

Feeling the warmth flooding back into his body, observing the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest with each breath, I knew. 

Against all the odds, he had returned. I embraced him as if he were the most cherished treasure in all the realms. And in truth, Richard was the most precious thing to me.

Upon awakening, he appeared unaffected by the harrowing ordeal, a sight that filled my heart with immense relief. 

He comforted me, assuring that everything was now alright and that such a dire event would never repeat itself.

Despite my lingering worries, I found solace in his words, trusting in his promise that we would face no such trials again.

Without skipping a beat, he later retrieved the secret bag brimming with bread, fruits, and pouches of coins. 

We feasted to our heart's content, savoring each bite as if it were a gift from the gods themselves.

Later, as the night draped its comforting veil around us, he sang me into a peaceful slumber. And with his soothing melody as my lullaby, I drifted into the embrace of sleep.

…

Third POV

Dawn broke over the familiar alleyway, casting soft light on the makeshift bed where Alicent and Richard lay. The morning chill mingled with the scent of the city, a reminder of their tough lives.

Alicent stirred awake, her eyes fluttering open as she took in their surroundings. She moved carefully, not wanting to wake Richard, already bracing herself for whatever challenges the day might bring.

As she yawned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she was met with an unexpected sight. Instead of Richard's usual disheveled appearance, a handsome boy in noble attire lay beside her.

Her heart raced, worry creeping in. Had something happened to Richard? But as she looked closer, she recognized him beneath the fine clothes and groomed hair. It was Richard, transformed.

Despite the fresh attire, his familiar features were unmistakable. She remembered the days when his hair had been shorter, but now it framed his face, enhancing his boyish charm. 

He looked like one of the princes from the fairy tales she had read, a far cry from the scrappy survivor she had known.

Alicent's gaze drifted to his arm, where a stunning blue dress made of silk and linen rested. It was clean and in her size. She gasped, realizing Richard must have gotten it for her.

Questions swirled in her mind, but she pushed them aside, letting a warm smile spread across her face. His thoughtful gift filled her with gratitude.

Carefully, she rose from their bed, keeping her eyes on the dress. She reached out to pull it away, but Richard's grip was firm. Frustrated yet determined, she tugged at it, trying to free it from his hold.

Just then, Richard's eyes flickered open. A mischievous glint sparkled in his gaze. He feigned sleep, tightening his hold on the dress.

Alicent continued to pull at the fabric, her frustration mounting. After several failed attempts, she finally sighed, exasperated.

Suddenly, a chuckle broke the quiet. She looked up to find Richard smiling at her, his eyes bright with amusement.

"You were just pretending, weren't you?" Alicent laughed, her irritation melting away. "You trickster!" She playfully hit him on the shoulder, her own smile mirroring his.

"You fool," she said, though her voice was light with affection. "Why do you have to mess with me like that? I wanted the dress!"

Her eyes sparkled with a mix of playful annoyance and genuine disappointment, making her look even more charming. She tilted her head, a small smile teasing her lips.

"You know I love pretty things," she continued, her tone teasing but sincere. "And here I am, stuck in these old rags." She gestured dramatically to her worn clothes, pretending to lament her plight.

"I guess I'll have to rely on your good graces, huh?"

Richard laughed, a playful tone in his voice. "Alright, alright! I'm just joking." With a mischievous grin, he handed her the dress. 

"Here you go. I hope you like it. I may have… borrowed it from a shop nearby last night," he teased.

He sat up to meet her gaze, warmth and playfulness dancing in his eyes as he waited for her reaction.

Alicent's eyes lit up with joy as she took the dress into her arms, feeling the soft fabric against her skin. 

She hugged it tightly, warmth filling her heart for Richard's thoughtful gesture. This dress would be special, a reminder of their bond.

Seeing her reaction, Richard's smile widened, his heart swelling with happiness. Alicent's joy was everything to him, and he was glad to have made her happy.

As Alicent noticed Richard's handsome grin, a rush of warmth flooded her cheeks. She pressed her face into the soft fabric, trying to hide her blush but feeling butterflies in her stomach. Deep down, she was thrilled by his kindness.

After carefully dressing in the blue silk and linen gown, Alicent took a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. "Richard," she called softly, knowing he had respectfully turned his gaze away to give her privacy in the quiet alley.

She adjusted the gown, ensuring every fold and seam lay just right, feeling the fabric's softness against her skin.

"Richard, you can look now," she said, her voice tinged with anticipation.

Turning to face him, she held her breath, hoping to see his approval reflected in his eyes.

"So, how do I look?" Alicent asked, a mix of excitement and uncertainty in her tone, eager for his honest assessment.

Richard turned to her, his gaze sweeping over Alicent's transformed appearance. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, with loose strands framing her face, and her striking blue eyes sparkled against the backdrop of the elegant dress draping over her figure.

Despite the dress's pristine condition, the smudges on her cheeks and the tangles in her hair were reminders of their life on the streets of Lannisport.

"You look beautiful," Richard said, his voice tender as he took her in. "But I can make you look even better." He stepped away momentarily, heading toward a wooden bucket filled with water.

This bucket was their source for washing and cooking, diligently maintained by Alicent's daily trips to the well.

Richard quickly dipped a cloth into the cool water and returned to her side, a gentle smile on his face. "Hold still," he murmured, approaching her cautiously.

With tender strokes, he wiped away the grime from her cheeks, his touch light yet deliberate. Then, he turned his attention to her hair, dampening it slightly to untangle knots and restore its natural shine.

Alicent allowed herself to be cared for, a mix of gratitude and delight bubbling within her. Each gentle stroke of the cloth against her skin and every careful adjustment of her hair caused her heart to flutter inexplicably. 

A faint blush crept onto her cheeks, unnoticed by Richard, who remained focused on his task.

As he tended to her, Alicent reflected on how Richard had grown even more attentive to her needs since their hardships had deepened. His newfound caring nature, though different from before, warmed her heart.

She cherished these moments of tenderness, where his actions spoke volumes of his love and commitment.

By the time Richard finished, Alicent felt transformed. Her face was clean, her hair neatly arranged, and she smiled warmly at him, a silent expression of gratitude for his caring touch and the deeper bond they now shared.