M-A-M-A. G-I-R-L.
Mamas Girl.
Alicent Hightower loved all her children.
She did, and no one could deny that.
But she has and always will love her youngest daughter Aemma Targaryen just that little bit more.
Aemma didn't look or act like any of her...
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She was overcome with grief.
Overloaded with the emotion as she sat in this uncomfortable council chair, how had she never noticed before how uncomfortable this chair was?
Her mind was trying to think on any other problems she was having like the chair and Aemonds endeavors besides the major big one, the loss of her son and his still missing head.
She didn't want to be here sitting in the Small Council room as they discussed her son and his missing head, she didn't want to have to live through it anymore, the pain overbearing.
Sitting there she was like a mindless body not entirely functioning as she sat up straight in her seat beside the Kings vacant one, the King up around the room raging loudly as she sat in her sorrow quietly.
Her auburn locks were still all messed up from where they were neatly set ready for bed, it now all tussled up and breaking free from its plaits.
The green nightdress she had been wearing, now mixed in and stained with the red of her sons blood, her hands now thankfully clean of any of Jaehaerys blood.
This meeting was clearly not planned as you looked around at the rooms occupants, the Queen a bloody mess, Alicent the usually presentable woman still in her nightclothes, the King was no better only having loosely thrown his tunic on over his night shirt not having zipped it up.
Those three had not even bothered to get changed that much since they'd heard of the news, not even realizing the states they were in due to their shocked states, all three of them reacting differently to this sadness.
"And where we're the members of this council while the murderer threatened their Queen? Their King?", Aegon accused the multiple members of the Small Council as he paced about the room flustered.
"We're you threatened, Your Grace?", Lord Tyland asked as Aegon walked past him.
"I could have been!", Aegon yelled in his face, throwing down candle holders that stood next to the man unlit.
From where she sat Aemma slightly flinched at the loud noises, her eyes shooting to meet where the sound had come from, sighing as she noticed it was only a candle holder, her whole body on edge.
"My son is my legacy!", he shouted to them all, pointing his finger down. "My son is heir to the Iron Throne!"
Gaze flickering blindly around the room, Aegon set his sights on another to torment. "And where we're you, the Lord Commander of my Kingsguard?", he know pointed his finger at Ser Criston Cole. "My wife's Sworn Protector."
At the mention of her, Aemma looked over to where Aegon now stood almost trying to size up Ser Criston, Cristons eyes drifting over to meet Aemmas eyes remorsefully that he hadn't been around to save her and her son.
