#themagnaniimous

[lockedtowers]

&& @themagnaniimous ;; u kno why

“—you look like you just licked the inside of a lemon completely dry.”

[helenaus]

@themagnaniimous ; a plotted starter

The guards had received clear orders.

As soon as he gets here, I want him brought to me. No matter how late. 

And Alicent had waited. For hours. 

The time was well spent in keeping up with her letters, though the night’s productivity scarcely did anything to assuage her temper. Her handwriting suffered the consequences, but she managed. The task kept her occupied until her wrists began to ache. Alicent lost her patience around the sixth or seventh letter, when her elbow hit the ink and spilled it all over the desk. Her eyelids were heavy by then, and still there was no sign of Aegon.

Seven above, how could he live like this?

Surely, he ought to have outgrown that life by now. Her eldest had always been the most irresponsible sibling, more concerned with the immediate pleasures of a glass of wine and a pretty maiden than with his rightful claim to his father’s crown, or perhaps the fact that his very life would be at stake the moment Rhaenyra sat the Iron Throne. Hard as she tried, Alicent could not scream the sense into his brain. Many, many a time had the queen lost her temper with her son, but the impatience aged as he did, turning into fury the longer he insisted on being a boy at a time when he should already be a man.

He had an heir now. His father’s health declined further with every passing day. It could happen at any given moment, yet still Aegon chose to spend his nights in the gutters of Flea Bottom or gods know what kind of degrading place he was visiting lately.

“Your Grace,” ser Criston’s voice interrupted her reveries, “the prince.”

Only then did she realize how hard she’d been clenching her jaw.

At first, Alicent just sighed. It was the hour of the wolf, and she was exhausted.

Still, there was nothing but determination on her features as she rose from her chair and thanked the knight with a courteous nod. Alicent waited until he had left the two of them alone before she picked up a glass of water and threw its contents on Aegon’s face without ceremony.

“You reek of wine and brothel,” was her greeting, scanning his features slowly, her stare heavy with disapproval. “One of your children has an ear infection,” she said, scowling, “do you even know which one?”