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she always did that, as if reminding him that she was still here. “thank you,” she murmured maternal, intimate in a way that belonged only to them.

she placed the candle carefully among the others, whispering a prayer. not for kings or realms, but for the boy who knelt at her side.

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when his prayer ended, she did not look at him at once. she lingered in the silence, hands folded and eyes closed.

when he offered the flame, her hands reached out without hesitation, cupping his for a brief moment before taking the candle. the contact was deliberate. grounding.﹙...﹚

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she had learned the words long ago. they came easily. repentance. mercy. forgiveness. they tasted familiar on her tongue, worn smooth by years of repetition. she spoke them softly, not for the gods alone, but for him as well. because he needed to hear them spoken aloud.﹙...﹚

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there was no resistance in her. no anger. only the quiet, aching certainty that if this was what he needed to stay kind, to stay hers, then it was a small price to pay.

after all, he was all she had left.

and he had promised to protect her.

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the faint lattice of old, careful scars mapped her pale skin: testimony to devotion, to trust, to the strange intimacy they shared.

“just a little,” she added tenderly, as though reminding him to take a cloak before stepping into winter. “i need to remain well for you.”﹙...﹚

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“if it will make you happy…” she whispered, her fingers curling slightly into the fabric at his shoulders. her eyes softened, distant and adoring in a way that was no longer entirely feigned. “then you may.”

she turned her arm toward him willingly this time.﹙...﹚

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not the ghosts of her children, not the whispers that once haunted the corridors. only him.

at his confession, at the soft, almost shy request, her breath hitched. not in fear, but in something closer to anticipation. he had been gentle, these last times.﹙...﹚

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when he kissed her pulse, she tilted her head further without being asked. the movement was subtle, practiced. an offering disguised as affection.

“no one will hurt me,” she echoed. and she believed it. no one could reach her here.﹙...﹚

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the walls were kinder when he was pleased. “you are good,” she murmured, her voice carrying that gentle cadence she had once used for her own children. she had learned which words soothed him. which words kept the shadows from creeping into his eyes. ﹙...﹚

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alicent did not pull away. his arms around her felt like iron and silk all at once. she leaned into him as though it were instinct, as though there were nowhere else in the world she might belong. the red keep had long ago ceased to feel like a prison when he was near.﹙...﹚

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she leaned slightly toward him, the chains rattling, and rested her head against his chest, letting him feel her surrender. “you… you protect me, even when i can’t see it. even when i… forget who i am. i… i’m yours. only yours. i don’t… i don’t think of you as cruel. not… not ever.”﹙...﹚

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her lips curved faintly, as she allowed him to kiss the bruise, the sting already dulled by the strange comfort she felt with him. “it… it still hurts,” she admitted, voice trembling slightly, “but… i… i deserve to learn. to… to be shaped by you. it’s… it’s for the best, isn’t it?”﹙...﹚

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“no… no, you’re not a bad person,” she murmured, her voice low, husky from days without proper rest. “you… you only do what you must. and even when it hurts… i know it’s because you care. i… i trust you, jacaerys.”﹙...﹚

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alicent’s gaze softened as jacaerys looked at her. the chains around her ankle clinked softly as she moved to let him hold her hands, and the warmth of his touch made the dull ache of her confinement fade for just a heartbeat.﹙...﹚

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“you’re mine, aemond. always. even when the world is trying to rip you apart, even when you pretend it doesn’t matter… you have me.” her hand slid to cup his cheek, thumb brushing the faint line of his scar. “you can stay here,” she said, softer now, almost a promise.﹙...﹚

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“you think solitude will save you,” she whispered, “but sometimes… sometimes it’s better to lean on what you know won’t betray you.” a slow, deliberate smile curved her lips. ﹙...﹚

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she didn’t move from where she stood, yet the air between them was charged, intimate in a way that made the court walls feel distant. she took a step closer. her hand hovered in the space between them, then brushed his shoulder lightly, a touch that spoke of caution and possessiveness.﹙...﹚

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alicent watched him linger at the doorway, the weight of the day pressing him down more than she had ever seen. his usual pride was softened now into something almost fragile. she allowed him to enter without a word, letting the door close behind him with a muted click.﹙...﹚

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“i would not try to leave again,” she added gently, as if soothing him rather than herself. “i know you only wish to keep me safe.”

and she believed it. because believing otherwise would have shattered what little remained of her world.

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her gaze drifted to the red and black fabrics folded over his arm. she did not protest them anymore. “they are beautiful,” alicent murmured, meaning the gifts or perhaps meaning him. “you are very thoughtful.”

she rose slowly, the chain giving a metallic whisper, and stepped closer.﹙...﹚

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“i did,” she answered softly. “the mornings are… quieter when you are gone.”

it was true. the silence pressed against her ribs when he was absent. the servants did not speak. the guards did not meet her eyes. only he filled the rooms with warmth, with attention, with purpose.﹙...﹚

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a faint smile touched her lips, fragile and practiced, but not entirely false. the bruise upon her cheek had yellowed at the edges; she no longer flinched when she caught sight of it in the mirror. he had not meant it, she reminded herself. he was passionate. he loved too fiercely.﹙...﹚

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the chain was lighter than it had been at first. he had seen to that. he always saw to things. when jacaerys spoke, she lifted her gaze to him. to the flowers. to the books. to the careful abundance in his hands. he never forgot her preferences.﹙...﹚

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alicent did not rise when he entered. she had learned not to startle. the chamber he had chosen for her was bright in the mornings, the light pouring through tall windows that overlooked the city she no longer ruled. her fingers toyed absently with the chain at her ankle.﹙...﹚

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so near sacred ground. alicent did not. with him there, vigilant and unyielding, the shadows seemed thinner. the city’s dangers felt held at bay, if only for a moment. her whispered prayer grew calmer, less burdened by fear. for once, the queen felt safe.

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the scent of warm wax and incense filled her lungs, comforting and familiar. yet it was not only the Seven who granted her comfort. beside her knelt snow, silent. she could hear the faint shift of his white armour when he knelt. others might have found unease in a blade﹙...﹚

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alicent knelt before the circle of candles, the hush of the sept folding around her like a silken veil. her fingers laced tightly together as she bowed her head, murmuring first to the Mother for mercy, then to the Father for judgment, and lastly to the Warrior for strength.﹙...﹚

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