Dream Of Winter | C. Stark & H. Targaryen

Empty Garden

Alicent POV

The room is dimly lit, casting long shadows on the walls. Alicent Hightower, daughter of the Hand of the King, former Queen consort and royal Regent, and now Dowager Queen stands near the window, her gaze fixed on the moonlit courtyard below.

Her face remains stoic, devoid of any visible emotion, as she processes the news of her husband's passing.

The silence in the chamber is broken only by the soft crackling of the fireplace, casting flickering light across the room. Alicent's mind is a whirlwind of thoughts, memories, and conflicting emotions, yet her exterior remains impassive.

Viserys... dead.

Alicent's voice is barely audible, as if she's speaking to the empty air. Her words hang in the silence, echoing with a touch of detachment. The news of her husband's demise doesn't elicit the typical responses one would expect.

She's been at his side for decades. Seen the absolute worst of him. And the occasional goodness behind practiced aloofness, incompetence and bouts of cruelty.

He was sickly and crumbling for a solid have of her marriage. But through all of that, he still was a unsurpassable mountain. A seemingly eternal thorn in her side, and the Realm he claimed to govern really.

But somehow, she's to believe he's no longer here.

She walks slowly towards a nearby chair, her steps measured and deliberate. Seating herself, she clasps her hands together, fingers interlaced, resting upon her lap. Her eyes remain fixed on a distant point, lost in her thoughts.

The weight of her lack of affection for Viserys hangs heavy in the air. Love was never present in their union, and now, with his passing, Alicent finds herself devoid of any grief. Their marriage was nothing more than a political arrangement, devoid of any emotional connection.

Despite her best attempts, he never cared for her or regarded her as anything other than a broodmare. She played the dutiful and compassionate wife, kind mother - stepmother too to a girl her own age, but that was a doomed mission from the start so her failure can't be held against her - and even a proficient nurse maid, but she was never enough.

Numbness... that is what consumes her.

Her voice is barely a whisper, but the words carry an undeniable truth.
Numbness becomes her refuge, shielding her from the complexities of her own emotions. She gazes out the window once more, her eyes distant and unfocused.

A flicker of conflict passes over her face, a fleeting moment of vulnerability. Her faith imposes a set of rules upon her, denying her the solace of relief even in the face of a husband who was more an abuser than a partner - she would happily take a total stranger over who she's been wedded to.

Alicent rises from her chair, her movements graceful and composed. She walks towards the door, her expression unchanged.

It's as though her emptiness has become an armor, shielding her from the world and its expectations.

Nothingness will have to do.

**

Still enveloped in her numbness, Alicent walks across the room and opens the door, revealing her son Aegon standing just outside.

He wears a mask of indifference, feigning a lack of concern for his late father's passing. But his mother, perceptive as ever, sees through his facade.

He's trying to sound nonchalant. "Mother, I've been thinking about something. Viserys is dead. Good riddance, I say. How soon is it to hold a grand feast to celebrate?"