( Unease from a restless and fitful slumber woke the queen hours before the first rays of light dared to spread across King's Landing — twisting and coiling, a knot settled within the depths of her stomach. In those hours, she reverently prays to the seven, and when Talya finally comes to get her mistress ready for the day, she finds her piously kneeling with her hands clasped together in desperation.
Pulled from her wandering thoughts and prayers, she readies for the day — dressed in shades of green while adorned in gold and jewels with her hair pulled away from her face, waves of auburn trailing down her back.
Good and faithful Talya attempts to console her mistress, asking why she hadn't called for her if she was awake, but Alicent gently dismisses the concern as she needs the time alone to think and prepare for the day.
Together they walk, first checking on her lord husband, the King, who is still in a deep slumber thanks to milk of the poppy, free of the unbearable pain and torment he endures without it. She lingers within his chambers, index finger gently grazing over her thumb, looking for a piece of flesh to pick at and tear as she worries the inside of her lip between her teeth.
The threat of tears pricks at her eyes as she watches the rise and fall of her husband's chest; he may not have been a great man, but he was a good man, and to see the man she loves in such a state eats away at her because she knows there is nothing she can do to alleviate the pain and bring him comfort.
Knowing that she has lingered too long, Alicent leaves the King's chambers to make her way to break fast with whatever members of her family wish to join her. It is no surprise that Aegon is missing and Helaena seems disinterested or distracted when Alicent attempts to initiate a conversation with her daughter. When she receives no response, she moves on to talk with her father as there is always a surplus of conversation with that man, especially regarding topics to discuss within the small council.
Warm brown eyes drift over the table as she listlessly pokes at her food, eventually settling on the downturned face of Aemond, who also seems lost in his thoughts after Helaena excused herself.
Perhaps it will be good for you to get away for a time, Otto comments to Alicent, noting the tired look on his daughter's face. Not long, of course, as she had her queenly duties, but there was nothing he, as the Hand of the King, couldn't handle in her stead.
It will be something to think on, she replies, gaze still fixated on her son, who hasn't bothered to lift his head or look at her throughout this meal. We could visit Oldtown. It has been long since we last saw Daeron.
Having Daeron visit King's Landing would be easier. The idea of getting away from the city and back to familiarly brought forth a longing she desperately tried to keep buried.
It may be difficult for the King to go in his state, the hand drones, though, if willing, the rest of the family could accompany you or Aemond at the very least.
She knows it would be challenging to ask Aemond to accompany her anywhere. Then there is Helaena with the children; while not impossible, it will be difficult and an annoyance to uproot them for an extended amount of time, so that leaves Aemond to accompany her if he is willing.
What are your thoughts, Aemond? Patiently, she waits for an answer, and when she doesn't receive one, she prods again. Aemond?
Finally, he looks at her and agrees before excusing himself. The whiplash and oddness of his behavior left her bewildered, grasping for any sense of what happened, as it wasn't like him to act in such a way. Worried she wants to chase after him, but there is still much to do today; she will check on him later as the flush on his neck leaves her wondering if he has come down with a fever.
The day lingers on — filled with a dress fitting, dealing with a mess Aegon made, and finally, the small council meeting where she sits at the head of the table to listen to the council members and the problem of the realm. Idly, the bites at her thumb, feel the give of the flesh beneath her teeth without tearing into the skin — though she desperately wants to, with her father looming over her shoulder, she resists the urge.
It is her turn to be distracted, her mind lingering on Aemond and earlier. She begs the seven that this adjourns soon and that she can check on her son.
Impatience grows within her. Soon, her hands find themselves beneath the table as she picks at her fingers, desperate to escape. Desperate to get to Aemond. Worry, a mother's worry continues to swell within her, threatening to burst forth until there is nothing more to discuss, and she is finally free.
In a whirlwind of green satin, she leaves the chambers hurrying to Aemond's room, her shoes echoing through the halls as she ignores several servants and even Ser Criston when they approach her.
She lingers outside his door after knocking, waiting for his answer; worrying continues to surge within her when it does not come. The maidservant swears she witnessed him enter his room, and with a wave of her hand, Alicent dismisses them all before entering. )
Aemond? ( She calls out into the room lit by the fading afternoon sun as she softly closes the door behind her, desperately scanning for him before stepping further into the room — spotting his shed clothing before settling on his form languidly lying across his bed. )
Aemond — ( her breath catches in her throat as a flush of heat washes over her. The scene before her wasn't new; countless times had she walked in on her sons pleasuring themselves ( mostly Aegon ), so it is always a surprise to see Aemond give in to such pleasures.
Alicent tries to look away, to give her son some privacy, but try as she might, her gaze continues to be transfixed on his hand's slow and methodical workings. He looks unearthly. Ethereal. His hair splayed like a halo around him, chest bare, still glistening with what sweat lingers from his training earlier and the heat of pleasure. When was the last time she witnessed anything or anyone so beautiful? So handsome?
It feels so sinful to watch him, but she can't stop herself. Nor could she stop herself from taking a few steps forward. She swallows hard, trying to push down the lump that has settled in her throat before moistening her lips with her tongue, nervously bringing her thumb to her mouth as she bites at the nail.
For the first time in years, she feels like a young maiden again, with her heart pounding within her chest and the heat radiating from her cheeks; she knows they are flushed as she continues to silently watch him pleasure himself. )
no subject
Pulled from her wandering thoughts and prayers, she readies for the day — dressed in shades of green while adorned in gold and jewels with her hair pulled away from her face, waves of auburn trailing down her back.
Good and faithful Talya attempts to console her mistress, asking why she hadn't called for her if she was awake, but Alicent gently dismisses the concern as she needs the time alone to think and prepare for the day.
Together they walk, first checking on her lord husband, the King, who is still in a deep slumber thanks to milk of the poppy, free of the unbearable pain and torment he endures without it. She lingers within his chambers, index finger gently grazing over her thumb, looking for a piece of flesh to pick at and tear as she worries the inside of her lip between her teeth.
The threat of tears pricks at her eyes as she watches the rise and fall of her husband's chest; he may not have been a great man, but he was a good man, and to see the man she loves in such a state eats away at her because she knows there is nothing she can do to alleviate the pain and bring him comfort.
Knowing that she has lingered too long, Alicent leaves the King's chambers to make her way to break fast with whatever members of her family wish to join her. It is no surprise that Aegon is missing and Helaena seems disinterested or distracted when Alicent attempts to initiate a conversation with her daughter. When she receives no response, she moves on to talk with her father as there is always a surplus of conversation with that man, especially regarding topics to discuss within the small council.
Warm brown eyes drift over the table as she listlessly pokes at her food, eventually settling on the downturned face of Aemond, who also seems lost in his thoughts after Helaena excused herself.
Perhaps it will be good for you to get away for a time, Otto comments to Alicent, noting the tired look on his daughter's face. Not long, of course, as she had her queenly duties, but there was nothing he, as the Hand of the King, couldn't handle in her stead.
It will be something to think on, she replies, gaze still fixated on her son, who hasn't bothered to lift his head or look at her throughout this meal. We could visit Oldtown. It has been long since we last saw Daeron.
Having Daeron visit King's Landing would be easier. The idea of getting away from the city and back to familiarly brought forth a longing she desperately tried to keep buried.
It may be difficult for the King to go in his state, the hand drones, though, if willing, the rest of the family could accompany you or Aemond at the very least.
She knows it would be challenging to ask Aemond to accompany her anywhere. Then there is Helaena with the children; while not impossible, it will be difficult and an annoyance to uproot them for an extended amount of time, so that leaves Aemond to accompany her if he is willing.
What are your thoughts, Aemond? Patiently, she waits for an answer, and when she doesn't receive one, she prods again. Aemond?
Finally, he looks at her and agrees before excusing himself. The whiplash and oddness of his behavior left her bewildered, grasping for any sense of what happened, as it wasn't like him to act in such a way. Worried she wants to chase after him, but there is still much to do today; she will check on him later as the flush on his neck leaves her wondering if he has come down with a fever.
The day lingers on — filled with a dress fitting, dealing with a mess Aegon made, and finally, the small council meeting where she sits at the head of the table to listen to the council members and the problem of the realm. Idly, the bites at her thumb, feel the give of the flesh beneath her teeth without tearing into the skin — though she desperately wants to, with her father looming over her shoulder, she resists the urge.
It is her turn to be distracted, her mind lingering on Aemond and earlier. She begs the seven that this adjourns soon and that she can check on her son.
Impatience grows within her. Soon, her hands find themselves beneath the table as she picks at her fingers, desperate to escape. Desperate to get to Aemond. Worry, a mother's worry continues to swell within her, threatening to burst forth until there is nothing more to discuss, and she is finally free.
In a whirlwind of green satin, she leaves the chambers hurrying to Aemond's room, her shoes echoing through the halls as she ignores several servants and even Ser Criston when they approach her.
She lingers outside his door after knocking, waiting for his answer; worrying continues to surge within her when it does not come. The maidservant swears she witnessed him enter his room, and with a wave of her hand, Alicent dismisses them all before entering. )
Aemond? ( She calls out into the room lit by the fading afternoon sun as she softly closes the door behind her, desperately scanning for him before stepping further into the room — spotting his shed clothing before settling on his form languidly lying across his bed. )
Aemond — ( her breath catches in her throat as a flush of heat washes over her. The scene before her wasn't new; countless times had she walked in on her sons pleasuring themselves ( mostly Aegon ), so it is always a surprise to see Aemond give in to such pleasures.
Alicent tries to look away, to give her son some privacy, but try as she might, her gaze continues to be transfixed on his hand's slow and methodical workings. He looks unearthly. Ethereal. His hair splayed like a halo around him, chest bare, still glistening with what sweat lingers from his training earlier and the heat of pleasure. When was the last time she witnessed anything or anyone so beautiful? So handsome?
It feels so sinful to watch him, but she can't stop herself. Nor could she stop herself from taking a few steps forward. She swallows hard, trying to push down the lump that has settled in her throat before moistening her lips with her tongue, nervously bringing her thumb to her mouth as she bites at the nail.
For the first time in years, she feels like a young maiden again, with her heart pounding within her chest and the heat radiating from her cheeks; she knows they are flushed as she continues to silently watch him pleasure himself. )