Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Heating up
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Alicent POV

As I walked into Richard's solar, the scent of wine hit me immediately, thick and heavy in the air. My eyes landed on him, seated at his desk, surrounded by empty bottles of Arbor Gold.

His golden hair was slightly disheveled, his eyes half-lidded with the glaze of too much drink. But then he smiled—one of those rare, warm smiles that made my heart race.

For a brief moment, hope surged within me. Could he be back to his old self?

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say anything, Richard's head lolled forward, his chin resting on the table. His smile remained, but his eyes were unfocused, distant. I took a step closer, unsure of what to do, but before I could act, he lifted his head sluggishly and caught my gaze once again.

"Al... Alicent," he slurred, his voice thick and unsteady. He rose from his chair, but his steps were wobbly, his body swaying as he tried to make his way toward me.

"Richard..." I began, my heart sinking. He was drunk, this was the first time I had ever seen him drunk. This wasn't the Richard I knew.

Before he could take another step, Richard stumbled, his legs giving out beneath him as he crumpled to the floor with a heavy thud. My heart raced as I rushed to his side, kneeling beside him. My hands trembled as I tried to help him sit up.

"Come on," I whispered, tugging at his arm. "Let's get you to bed."

He didn't resist, but he wasn't much help either. His body felt like dead weight, and I struggled to guide him down the hall. Fortunately, a couple of the Lionheart girls I taught saw the state he was in and hurried over to help me.

Every few steps, he leaned too far one way or the other, nearly pulling us all down with him. I sighed, bracing myself against his weight. His eyes were barely open, lost in whatever haze had overtaken him. The girls exchanged worried glances, but neither spoke as we dragged him toward his room.

"Is he going to be all right?" one of them whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

I nodded, though the uncertainty gnawed at me. "He just needs rest," I said, hoping the words would make it true.

The girls helped me bring him to his room, then quietly closed the door, leaving me to guide Richard the rest of the way.

When we reached the bed, I let him fall onto the mattress, the effort leaving me breathless. But before I could step back, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist firmly, and with surprising strength, he pulled me down beside him.

I lay frozen, his arm draped over me.

"Richard," I whispered, my voice soft, my heart hammering. We'd slept beside each other before, back in the slums when we were just two lost children. But this felt different. His hand rested on my back, his breathing deep and steady, the tension in his body melting away as he drifted into sleep.

I tried to move, but his arm tightened around me, like a protective barrier I couldn't slip past. Slowly, I stopped struggling and let myself relax into him, the warmth of his body seeping into mine. My heart still raced, a mix of emotions I couldn't untangle.

The steady rise and fall of his chest, the soft sound of his breathing, soon lulled me into a drowsy haze. With my ear pressed to his chest, I could hear his heartbeat, slow and rhythmic. It was like a melody, soothing me in a way nothing else could.

The world outside, the smell of wine, and the uncertainty—all of it faded away as I succumbed to the exhaustion that had been weighing on me for days.