𝑨 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒉 𝑶𝒇 𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏𝒔 // 𝑨𝒆𝒈𝒐𝒏 𝑰𝑰 𝑻𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒆𝒏

7. Like Mother Like Son

Alicent's modest green dress trailed behind her, its silk whispering against the stone flooring. The sunlight streaming through the narrow windows caught the beading that embellished her gown, casting shimmering highlights that danced and glinted with every move she made. The silk veil that covered her hair was woven with silvery threads that also glinted in the sunlight.

Her hands, clenched tightly into fists, betrayed the tension that gripped her. The act of biting her nails, a nervous habit from her younger years, itched beneath her skin.

The weight of her worries and fears, hidden just below the surface, made her movements almost mechanical as she walked desperately towards her chamber to seek some peace and quiet. For her visit to the sept had not provided her with that morning. Despite her best efforts to maintain composure, her heart thumped heavily in her chest, her mind filled with endless scenarios and what-ifs, none of which seemed to promise a favorable end.

As she reached the top of the stairs, Alicent paused for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. Then, straightening her shoulders and lifting her chin, she continued on her way, her outward appearance still the picture of regal composure, though the truth lay hidden beneath.

She walked quietly down the hall, her mind racing with thoughts and hopes. She hoped that her prayers in the sept had found a favorable response, that she had not wasted her time and breath in supplication. Her mind returned constantly to Aemond, the troubled son who always seemed to cause her grief in one way or another. Her prayers, she hoped, were not in vain.

She neared yet another set of stairs when her chambermaid approached her. The young woman curtseyed respectfully, her voice polite as she announced. "The bath you requested has been prepared for you, your highness."

As Alicent listened to the maid's words, a pang of bittersweetness filled her heart. The reminder of her standing at court did hit her stronger then she would've liked it to. She was no longer the Queen. No longer addressed by "your grace" or "my Queen" Instead, she was now "your highness" - the dowager queen, to be precise.

The change in her title was a stark reminder of the shift in power in the realm, of the new order that had been established. It still stung, even if her title was still one of respect and honor. She knew very well where her station lay as far as authority and power went. And she was not sure she enjoyed it.

The thought left a sour taste in her mouth, even as she nodded her thanks to the maid and began to make her way up the stairs towards her new bedchamber. She pushed aside the discomfort, her spine straight and her chin lifted high. She might not be the queen anymore, but she was still a force to be reckoned with, a Dowager Queen with the weight of experience and wisdom behind her.

As Alicent continued her ascent up the broad stairs, her thoughts swirling with a mix of worry and determination, her eyes caught sight of Aemond walking down the stairs that hugged the other side of the landing they both shared.

Her heart skipped a beat, her step faltering for just a second at the sight of her troubled son. But outwardly, she remained unchanged, her expression betraying none of the unease that filled her chest.

Once Aemond saw her he stopped as well. They stood facing each other on opposite sides of the landing, their gazes locked and their expressions inscrutable. A moment of silence hung between them, the air filled with unspoken tension. Alicent took in the sight of her son, his face set in a scowl, the familiar air of anger and defiance about him. A thousand questions ran through her mind, yet she held her tongue, waiting for him to speak first.

Aemond, despite his usual brusque demeanor, lowered his head in a small bow, a slight nod of greeting. His voice, when he spoke, was laced with begrudging respect. "Mother, I trust you had a pleasant visit to the sept."