𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 - secrets always find a way to come to light
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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 of the House of Wind, creating a kaleidoscope of colors on the marble floors as Alicent glided through its corridors. The smell of dew-kissed roses from the gardens outside permeated the crisp, cool air. Her silken crimson gown rustled softly with every elegant step, her footsteps barely audible against the plush carpets lining the hallways.
As she walked, shafts of sunlight danced around her like playful sprites, illuminating her path with a golden glow. Her stormy gaze cut through the tranquil beauty around her, her jaw clenched tight with simmering anger. The meeting with Rhysand loomed ahead, a knot of tension coiled in her stomach at the mere thought of facing him and his insufferable Inner Circle. She could hear the murmur of voices growing louder as she approached the grand chamber where they were to convene, each step feeling heavier than the last. She moved with purpose, her narrowed eyes fixed on the grand oak doors that led to the meeting.
Despite the soft rustle of her gown, there seemed to be a quiet intensity to every step that echoed. Her dress was covered in elaborately embroidered thorn patterns that appeared to shimmer in the changing light, with their velvety petals possessing an almost lifelike detail.
Alicent felt shivers down her spine as the threat of confrontation crackled in the air like static before a lightning strike. She forced herself to keep a regal composure, back straight, chin up. The elaborately carved doors to the chamber drew nearer and nearer, their magnificence taunting her.
As she pushed open the doors and stepped into the room, a wave of tension washed over her like a tidal wave. Her gaze swept over the room, taking in the familiar faces of Rhysand's family seated around an ornate table. Amren's neutral expression held a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. Cassian and Azriel exchanged a silent communication, their wariness palpable in the charged atmosphere of the room.
The High Lord himself sat at the head of the table, his features schooled into a mask of deceptive calm. But Alicent saw through the facade, recognizing the glint of amusement lurking in his purple eyes. She despised how he always seemed to hold all the cards, his power a tangible force that twisted and coiled around her like invisible chains.
And then her eyes moved to the female sitting next to Azriel — a face she had hoped never to see again. There, with an infuriating smile playing on her lips, sat Morrigan — her sister, the one who had betrayed her in the cruelest of ways. Alicent's chest heaved with rage and disbelief as she locked eyes with her.
She felt the weight of Morrigan's betrayal like a physical blow, each memory of deception and deceit flashing before her eyes in vivid detail. The bond they once shared had shattered into a million irreparable pieces, leaving only shards of broken trust in its wake.
