( Idly, her fingers continue smoothing through his hair — a repetitive motion that brings her comfort and brief distraction from the mounting tension between them as his statement nearly brings her to pause.

Catching a few rogue strands between her fingers, Alicent gently tucks them behind his ear. The backs of her knuckles glide over and down his neck as her fingers move along the length of his hair, gently twirling and wrapping the ends around them before releasing. )

Depraved? Never. ( Her voice softer, lighter — a secret just between them — as she canted her head toward him, her eyes shifted to look up at him.

Even if she thought him depraved, admitting such a thing would admit to her own depravity for watching him as well. How long had she watched him? Only the seven knew how long she stood there transfixed and admiring the sight of him.

That in itself was a sin — a sin settling heavily within her, creating weight in her stomach, twisting and coiling in places it shouldn't. The same sin she had thrown into the face of her friend all those years ago, saying that the Targaryen's had queer customs, and yet her eldest son and only daughter married despite it all. )

You are my brave, strong boy turned into a handsome man. It is natural to be consumed by such compulsions, and the desire to quell them is strong.