Bewitched {Being Rewritten}

Chapter Thirty-Four

Darla's smile fell as soon as she exited the king's chambers, glancing at Alicent, who stood waiting with Ser Criston and Ser Rickard. She wiped at the corners of her mouth, quietly thanking Alicent as she took the offered cup of wine.

"You may choose whichever punishment you see fit," Darla informed Alicent, bringing the goblet to her lips. The sweet wine chased away the bitter taste left behind on her tongue. "Viserys only asks that you show compassion."

"Compassion?" Alicent repeated, stomach turning at the suggestion that Rhaenyra's sons deserved kindness more than Aemond. "Have I lost my sanity?" Alicent questioned, beginning to walk towards Aegon's chambers. "Do my senses lead me astray? Or is everyone else asleep, dreaming the same wooly dream?"

"Sometimes seems so, Your Grace." Criston responded, following after the queen.

Many had not understood why the knight had been allowed to stay a member of the kingsguard after brutally killing a man in front of so many witnesses, no less why he had been able to keep his head. Ser Criston had the king's mistress to thank for his life and white cloak. Following the wedding, Darla had quickly spun a story that the dead man had been spotted holding a knife and nearing her and Alicent, grinning as the tale spread throughout the realm, smearing Ser Joffrey Lonmouth's memory. Viserys had been so grateful for Ser Criston's quick actions in saving his wife and mistress that Darla hadn't needed to convince him to allow Criston to keep his white cloak.

"She flaunts the privilege of her inheritance without shame," Alicent continued to complain. "She expects everyone in the Red Keep to deny the truth our eyes can all plainly see. And the king, her father-"

"He knows." Darla interjected around the rim of her goblet. She met Ser Rickard's knowing gaze, both having heard this argument many times before. The older woman turned back to Alicent, gently taking her arm in hers.

"Of course, he knows," Alicent continued. Her hands gripped Darla as she spoke, wanting the mistress close. "Or did once, but has convinced himself otherwise. He'll do naught but make excuses for her."

Darla hummed in agreement, softly bumping her hip into Alicent's.

"The Princess Rhaenyra is brazen and relentless. A spider who stings and sucks her prey dry." Criston paused before he spat out. "A spoiled cunt.

Darla had to restrain herself from laughing at Criston's callous words, instead burying her face in Alicent's shoulder to hide the smile. She could hear Rickard's cough from behind her as he fought off his own laughter.

"That was beneath me, Your Grace. I apologize." Criston spoke after a beat of silence.

"Your feelings are understandable," Darla empathized, lifting her head off of Alicent's shoulder. "Knowing how cruel she has been to you. Many would think much the same if she had done the same to them."