[ Alicent has known fear such as this only once, staring into the maw of a dragon. A gullet without end, only shimmering blackness. To die by fire — by teeth — is a slow thing, in all the histories. The creature knocks her prone seconds before its attention shifts elsewhere. Her delicate sleeve has already torn, white fabric in ribbons where it once cuffed at her wrist, but her skin is blessedly unbroken. Attire on theme, thanks to the assistance of others, and streaked with brilliant green. Unbidden, she recalls the stories of old, wolves twice as large as any man, roaming the frigid wastelands in the north.
She shutters her gaze, weak, and waits for the inevitable. Only belatedly does she register the voice of another, rounded eyes flicking up in shock. ]
Are — are you a knight?
[ A frightfully genuine question, given his daring promise and distinct lack of weaponry. Ill odds. Then again, her son has named naught but lickspittles to the kingsguard since he came to power.
After a brief hesitation, she lifts her arm and grasps his extended hand. They've little and less time, if he's unskilled in battle. ]
c!
She shutters her gaze, weak, and waits for the inevitable. Only belatedly does she register the voice of another, rounded eyes flicking up in shock. ]
Are — are you a knight?
[ A frightfully genuine question, given his daring promise and distinct lack of weaponry. Ill odds. Then again, her son has named naught but lickspittles to the kingsguard since he came to power.
After a brief hesitation, she lifts her arm and grasps his extended hand. They've little and less time, if he's unskilled in battle. ]