( Though it is the two of them alone in his chambers, Alicent knows the walls have a way of talking. Of people figuring out and learning things they shouldn't. Her paranoia, as annoying and bothersome as it might be, is not unfounded or without cause — she has spent many years within these walls to know not everything that should be kept a secret remains that way. )

We mustn't — ( she breathes a sharp inhale upon feeling the tips of his fingers against her leg. Without hesitation, she grabs ahold of him, fingers and fabric encircling his wrist, but she doesn't remove his hand beneath her skirt.

Instead, she looks up at him, eyes wide and pleading, hand around his wrist trembling with excitement and fear, causing her chest to rise and fall faster with her quickened breath.

When was the last touched in such a manner? Long before her lord husband, the king, fell further into sickness and even then, moments of intimacy that often lacked the warmth she desired and fulfillment of her own pleasure.

This is the first time she has ever allowed herself to be touched by another. She should be repulsed by herself and their actions, but she doesn't stop him; instead, she guides his hand higher — an inch, maybe two before stopping again.

Clearing her throat, she tries again, voice quaking more than she wishes it would as she releases his wrist, her fingers sliding up the length of his forearm. )

You are right — we mustn't blame ourselves for their depravity, and their judgment will come to them. What we must do is remain vigilant; if anyone were to find out — if anything were to happen to you as a result —

( she trails off as she continues to look upon his face, her cheeks flushed once more as the hand on his arm raises to cup his cheek once more, thumb brushing just under his bottom lip.

Turning slightly to face him, her other hand coming to rest upon his thigh. )

It would ruin me.