"Good night Ser Criston."
"Sleep well....Your Grace."
The Dornish knight stood outside the door on watch. While Alicent changed into her nightgown and slept, she had returned from Lancelot Strong giving him the fake news of her pregnancy, but to escape his fetish pleasure.
Sighing, she kissed her children goodnight, retired to her bed and stared at the roof while tearing her curticules, thinking of Aenar's proposal, slowly she sank into her slumber, tossing back and forth, her body was unsettled as nightmares began crowding her ambiance.
Suddenly a crow flew to her window, crowing in the eerie darkness tossing, it's eyes black as shadow, then the Crone god came into view, faceless it led her spirit to see the future, and like sifting sand through a screen, the Green Queen sank into a lucid dream of fire and blood, and saw the end of her destiny.
Aenar won The Dance of The Dragons. Lancelot and was hanged outside the city walls, along with the Green Councils, except for Otto Hightower who was beheaded.
Jace and Luce escaped by the help of Harwin Strong, Laena was raped, and killed in the Red Keep, Baela and Rheana were at Driftmark with their grandfather, leaving Vhagar riderless. Laenor died with Seasmoke, along with Rhaenys Meleys at Rook's Rest by Scorpion sorrows shot at them in the sky, Daemon died at the Gods Eye with a bastard targaryen named Hugh Hammer.
The Unsuilled bashed Aegon's head on the walls of Red Keep, Aemond and Daeron were no where to be found, leaving she and Heleana at the mercy of a woman whom has slowly been consumed by grief, for losing two children and has made him vengeful.
Alicent saw herself sent to a brothel, to live as a whore for the rest of their long life. The chains around the Queen Regent's arms and legs cut deep, a special request from her former lover Aenar. He hated her existence.
The rain pattered against the cell's window bars, a few scattering on the straw bedding provided for both of them that stenched of piss and manure.
She even begrudged them fresh straw, Alicent snarled to herself whilst she attempted to lay her head down: the manacles prevented her weight from ever fully resting on the ground below, perpetually straining unless she forced herself into the smallest ball at the cove.
In a moment of ingenuity, she propped her legs up against the grating stone and had her arms tug above her rather than behind, letting her arched back touch the floor without fear of any more pain.
A sigh of relief escaped the prisoner's lips, for she had tried and failed so many times to find peace in the chamber- once it had been the ghosts of her dead sons, who bothered her, but when sleep became so scarce she cherished what little could be achieved their voices were distant. It was only the screams of the one opposite her that made her eyes prick now.
Alicent saw how she cocked her head to look at the mop of silver hair covering her daughter's face: the grease and tears made it cling to Helaena's plump face, all but obscuring her beautiful targaryen features.
Lancelot had described Helaena as plain looking, but a mother knew the truth: Helaena was as beautiful as any other with the blood of Old Valyria, especially now that her time in the cell made her figure that bit more tight. If the Queen Regent was going to pay that cunt Aenar any thanks, it was for accentuating the queen's beauty.
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Of Bastards & Dragons || Aenar Targaryen
Fantasi"F-fuck." Alicent's shudders bitting her lips as his girth shifts her womb. "Argh!..." Aenar groans into her ear as he grasped her hips and thrust, hours and hours of his own pent-up desire, fuelling each lunge into her, the silky sheath of his stee...
