[ leaning on the hand nearest embry, alicent reaches across her chest to curl her fingers over his on the neck of the bottle, not taking it but rather guiding it to her lips. she needn’t keep them there, thumb skimming the back of his hand, but she does.
the sight of her, fluted sleeve brushing his arm, teal skirts pulled to her thighs as her legs shift in the water, would incite her ruin in westeros and bring a shame on her storied house that would last centuries. recently, however, she has decided to savour that they are far from the court and its vermin. the tanned skin of her bared collar and shoulders prove it, warmed by sunny afternoons spent with embry and her daily swim in the lake. ]
[ in a mild tone, ] Two more than I.
[ despite being married. viserys had never proposed, in so many words, sunk down on a creaking knee. he had sat before her, hands clasping hers. i’ve been inundated with proposals and propositions from friends and family, allies and rivals, all seeking to take his dearest wife’s place, but i’ve decided it’s you, lady alicent. of all the ladies in the keep and noblewomen across the realm, it would be the hightower girl whose father had walked her to the king’s chambers and instructed comfort. how she would laugh to see it now, such a blatant play for power from her father and the southron alliance. her fool husband, her ailing king. in his place, she’d flay any upstart girl-child that slithered into her sons’ chambers.
back then, she’d only cried. ]
Your Ash? [ she wagers, quietly daring. this boldness breaks the rules of their engagement, in which he pushes and she demurs, playing the rake and the lady. to soften the blow, she hooks her arm around his and leans closer. ]
fireworks.
the sight of her, fluted sleeve brushing his arm, teal skirts pulled to her thighs as her legs shift in the water, would incite her ruin in westeros and bring a shame on her storied house that would last centuries. recently, however, she has decided to savour that they are far from the court and its vermin. the tanned skin of her bared collar and shoulders prove it, warmed by sunny afternoons spent with embry and her daily swim in the lake. ]
[ in a mild tone, ] Two more than I.
[ despite being married. viserys had never proposed, in so many words, sunk down on a creaking knee. he had sat before her, hands clasping hers. i’ve been inundated with proposals and propositions from friends and family, allies and rivals, all seeking to take his dearest wife’s place, but i’ve decided it’s you, lady alicent. of all the ladies in the keep and noblewomen across the realm, it would be the hightower girl whose father had walked her to the king’s chambers and instructed comfort. how she would laugh to see it now, such a blatant play for power from her father and the southron alliance. her fool husband, her ailing king. in his place, she’d flay any upstart girl-child that slithered into her sons’ chambers.
back then, she’d only cried. ]
Your Ash? [ she wagers, quietly daring. this boldness breaks the rules of their engagement, in which he pushes and she demurs, playing the rake and the lady. to soften the blow, she hooks her arm around his and leans closer. ]