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𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐀𝐖 𝐀𝐙𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋 and the memory of their last encounter lingered in her mind like a painful and alluring twisted thorn. The Shadowsinger's presence had been a tempestuous whirlwind, stirring her emotions in a way she had not anticipated.
She despied him yet there was an undeniable pull, a magnetic force that drew her towards him despite her better judgment. Alicent found herself replaying their conversation in her mind, dissecting each word and gesture for hidden meanings. She knew he was sent here to observe her, to watch her every move with those piercing hazel eyes that seemed to strip away her carefully constructed facade. Azriel's shadows clung to him like loyal companions, dancing around his form as if whispering secrets in a language only they understood.
Alicent's disdain for the Shadowsinger festered like a dark seed within her, poisoning her thoughts with bitterness and mistrust. His very presence was a threat to her carefully constructed world. She scoffed at the idea that someone like him, with his enigmatic aura and unreadable expression, could see through her facade. Yet, a nagging voice in the back of her mind whispered that perhaps he saw more than she cared to admit.
As she paced the dimly lit corridors of the Hewn City, her thoughts strayed to the upcoming High Lord's arrival. Rhysand's impending presence was like a storm gathering on the horizon, promising both destruction and renewal in its wake. Alicent could almost taste the tension in the air, a tangible weight that pressed down on her shoulders as she prepared for his arrival.
She wondered what game he was playing, what intricate web of deceit he was spinning this time. The High Lord's arrival always heralded a shift in power dynamics, a subtle rearrangement of alliances and loyalties within the Court of Nightmares. The blonde knew she had to tread carefully, for one misstep could lead to her downfall.
She made her way to the dungeons through winding stone corridors that seemed to echo with the whispers of the damned. The air grew colder the deeper she descended, chilling her to the bone despite the warmth of her black lace shawl around her shoulders.
Alicent stood before the dungeon where they held their prisoners, her dress flowing like a river of shadows around her ankles, the dark fabric whispering against the cold stone floor. The flickering torches lining the dungeon walls cast shifting shadows across her face, emphasizing the sharp angles of her features.
As she walked, Alicent passed by cell after cell, each holding its own twisted tale of agony and torment. Some were filled with wretched creatures, their eyes dull with resignation as they stared blankly at nothing. Others echoed with anguished cries that pierced the silence like shards of shattered glass.
