Of Bastards & Dragons || Aenar Targaryen

86 • BATTLE AT ROOK'S REST

If it hadn't been for that fateful interaction, Alicent might not have been sitting at the council table at that moment in time, waiting for the Regent to show his face. The room was emptier than usual as a result a result of Cole and Gwayne also not present and the Grand Maester Orywell notable for his absence too.

Nonetheless, after agreeing to marry Lord Dalton Greyjoy, the Regent finally granted her a seat on the Green council to fulfill all righteousness.

Yet the conversation between the remaining council members was minimal to say the least, with Alicent in no mood to speak to the likes of Varys, Baelish Beesbury, and Jasper Wylde.

An anxiousness had crept around Alicent's heart and was currently in the process of painfully crushing it. The return of the Lord Commander meant that something had happened. News was scarce and, the longer that time ticked by, the more sure Alicent became that their tidings would be troublesome.

She knew that Rook's Rest had been Otto's first target. She knew that her father, despite being told to do the opposite, had forced Laenor upon Seasmoke to take part in the battle, a development they couldn't stop once word reached them. And she also knew that Aenar knew about their plans, thanks to his spy in the council, gods knows whom. It was a recipe for disaster.

When the doors eventually opened, it wasn't the knights who bid the new arrivals their entry. They obviously didn't get a chance to follow protocol, for Otto Hightower was bounding in with a furious look written on his face, making sure that the doors banged suitably against the walls.

Seething, the old man barely paid the council any attention, and he didn't bother to claim his seat at the head of the table. Instead, he only came to a stop by the window, his back to the rest of them as he glared at the city he now ruled over.

Limping in was Ser Lancelot Strong, he was less obtrusive in apparence, doing nothing more than sitting down right next to where their leader was supposed to be. If he attempted to look at Alicent, then she stubbornly refused to meet his gaze.

That now familiar sense of bile began to rise up in her throat as she felt his presence beside her. Images of what they'd done together resurfaced, an endless torment it seemed, and she did well to remain composed, hiding just how disgusted she was by the man.

It was worth noting that the shame of her affair with Lancelot hadn't passed over to her dalliance with Aenar. Although surely just as sinful, perhaps even more so, Alicent didn't feel guilty or dirty for what she'd done with her brother in-law. She loves the man.

The same could not be said for her heated coupling with the clubfoot, a series of physical and passionate encounters that could not be washed away, no matter how many times she submerged herself under water. Maybe it should have told her something that she didn't want to remove Aenar's lingering presence on her skin.

Ser Criston Cole was passive and emotionless as he rejoined the council, then Gwayne was as suspicious as ever. He'd arrived alongside the other two, but chose to linger by the doors once they were closed again. He seemed to delight in frequenting amongst shadows, but Alicent could tell what he was truly doing.

He was using it as an opportunity to look at each of them in turn, his eye scanning their features, though she couldn't tell just yet what information he was looking for.

"It's an embarrassment!" Otto declared, so suddenly that poor Varys jumped slightly in his chair.

Wylde decided to take it upon himself to face the problem head on. "Did...did Rook's Rest not fall, Regent?"