Well, right now, yes, but... [Quiet for a moment, watching her fingers close over his, noting the bandages on nearly every single one. Koby's own nails are bitten and ripped raw, a reflection of how many names, how many people he fears for, how many directions his (too soft, too tender) heart is wrenched. But Alicent's are worse.] You have your family, your friends, you haven't even been given time to grieve Embry, and you're...still here. [Providing the sort of comfort an orphaned, love-starved boy craves down to his marrow.
For a moment Koby let's himself imagine Alvida and Alicent, imagines how the former would quail before the gravitas and weight of the latter's presence. Alvida kept her power through fear, violence, threats. She manipulated and terrorized the crew and saved her cruelest words for a frightened, trapped boy who'd fallen into her web by mistake.
Alicent would've eaten her alive. That thought is some comfort, amidst the misery of this week.
If you were my boy prompts a throbbing stab of longing so raw that Koby knows its written all over his teary face, stark in his bright eyes. He swallows hard, hoarse, keeps his callused palm open for the steadying press of Alicent's bandaged thumb.] I would've liked that. [The education, yes, of course, unimaginable for someone in his situation. But belonging to someone, belonging to her-- that's what he really means.]
You are too. Kind, I mean. You've been it to me, and I -- [A slow, steadying inhale, well-aware he's trembling all over, exhausted and aching and sick with fear.] I didn't ask you here to talk about my past. I asked you because -- because you've been so kind, because I trust you and because.
Quentin’s named Baela. As his vote. [The trembling intensifies, and Koby wants to just burst into tears again, lose himself to fear, but he forces himself to meet Alicent's reddened eyes.] He did it to comfort a friend, not to harm, and I -- I know your family won't see it that way, I know I wouldn't, if it were one of my crew, but.
[Shaking, cold fingers curl around Alicent's hand, pleading, desperate with love, with fear.] I can't lose him. I can't. I'll lose my mind, I won't be able to survive this place. I'm not -- asking you to intercede or -- or defend him, I just. I need to know how I can. What your family will respect. What I can do to keep him safe.
[The tears are back, choking his throat, hot over his reddened cheeks, bright in his stricken, pleading eyes.] Please. I love him s-so much, Alicent, I'll -- do anything I have to. Anything.
[ it stings, the barest flicker in her too-big eyes, to be called here to bide her family once again. she is an extension of every man with a blade, expected to hold them back from justice with her bloody fingers. koby says he will intercede himself, but he can’t.
she sees herself in koby still, for how he begs the life of one who has betrayed another — hasn’t she interceded the same for rhaenyra? for aemond? her gaze flickers to his hands and back to his face. ]
I will not lie. Your Q has slighted mine — even Aemond will mislike it. Worse, he threatened what little family remains to Daemon, who will not hear my words or forget this sin. A dragon will not lower its head to accept an apology. [ these words are not a comfort, she knows, but they are true; this is the type of mother she has always been. ]
I would say you are lucky that another killer of our kin remains loose in the manor, for neither Aemond nor Daemon will waste their time on a lesser slight. [ her mouth thins — ] Your greater concern should be this: Q has cast a vote for one he knows to be innocent, a most suspicious act in a game of wolves hunting sheep. Let us not forget, a tall man with a mask of orange, pink, or red hunted Alina and likely Rhaenyra, too. [ it could be q, it could not be. others have been accused for less. ]
He will need tread very carefully, if he is innocent in this game. I hope we do not need to repeat the affairs of this night, but if we do — you would be wise to guide his vote towards one who actually appears suspect, for his sake.
[It's not a comfort, not at all, but at the same time it sobers Koby enough that he reels in his panic, his spiraling terror and grief and pain. Unconsciously, he sets his jaw, lifts his chin, squares his shoulders. Spine of steel, heart of stone -- neither of which he has, not now, not ever. But he can pretend, for a little. He has to.
And there is some comfort in Alicent not giving him a soft, vague answer. It means, perhaps, she thinks him strong enough to handle the stark, brutal truth: there is nothing they can do. She has her family, he has his crew and Quentin, and if the roll of the dice claims one or all, neither of them can stop it. All they can do is wait.]
Thank you. I -- think I sort of expected that. I hoped there was something I could do but. [Koby falters, looks down at her hand in his for a long moment, then curls his fingers gently around her bandages, mindful of the sting, the throb of torn cuticle.] I'm not the only one with people I love in danger.
And you shouldn't have to bear that, not from me. [A huffy, a reflexive reach up to push glasses that aren't there into place.] Not very soldier-like of me, to panic. I'm sorry, Alicent. I'm so -- sorry this is happening.
[But, because he knows she's no child too, no wilting flower that needs to be comforted:] The game is going to keep going until one team wins. Until all the wolves are caught, or... [Or we're all dead.]
[ alicent nods, a sharp thing, telling of her acceptance and unease both. of course the game will play out. there can be no end until someone wins. breathing deeply, she acknowledges his apology by returning the squeeze of his hands. ]
They will not strike him for his actions this day, not when the wolves stalk us so. [ it's he only assurance she give. there are greater threats than a single vote. ]
[ quietly urging, then: ] I still trust you in this, Koby. And Tim. But your Q — even Hawk, I do not know. How long has he known the man accused of killing Embry was a danger? [ another mask of red, pink or orange. another potential killer of her own. ] And if one I loved as mine own daughter could claim a life so young, so precious, I fear nothing is sacred. We must both be watchful, even of those we trust.
[ she does not name louis as one she doubts, but she fears for him all the same. ]
[It's not a guarantee, and that wrenches at Koby's chest, fear thrumming in the butterfly-quick beat of his heart, pulsing in his throat, in the ragged edges of bitten-close nails. But nothing is guaranteed -- not their survival, not their safety, not their own minds and bodies. They have no control, and that childish part of Koby wants to insist that it isn't fair, like Alicent hasn't lived longer and seen much more injustice. He remembers the hasty math of her age and that of her children. He remembers himself at that age.
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, where if you were my boy is curled up warm and comforting, like a sleeping cat, Koby wonders: what if I'd been something else? What if I'd been what I am, but yours instead? What would you have done?
He puts the thought out of his mind, glances down at her hands, thoughtfully.] I don't know. I trust -- a lot of people, but I also believe this place can make us do terrible things, things we wouldn't do. It can make even the most wonderful, kind, caring person into a monster. [The name in his mind is the same, and he shoves it away violently, firmly, even as he opens the possibility that it could be anyone, anyone.
Then he looks up, red-rimmed eyes serious, intent. He doesn't look young and fearful and fragile, like he had even moments ago.] If it comes to it, if the evidence is there against someone I love, or...or even me, you need to follow logic, again. Don't think of it as a betrayal. Think of it as saving someone from themselves, before this place can hurt them anymore.
And I'll look. [Red, orange, pink. A man in a mask the color of sunsets. A man who may not know his own monstrosity until its too late.] I won't give up until we're all safe again.
[ the boy she told him he was, clever and brave, coming to the same conclusion that she had this morning: even those they love may be guilty. alicent lifts a hand to his jaw, thumb arcing over his cheek. ]
Have I told you I am not a Targaryen in true? I am a Hightower by blood. And our House words command this of me: We light the way. [ a beacon in the harbour, a hand tipping the scales to achieve a righteous end. ] I will pursue justice, however dangerous the path becomes. You must do the same.
[ looking upon her and hers. she finds herself grateful baela’s role has become self-evident, protection against future accusations, if they can convince others of their theory. ]
[Similar to when she’d embraced him in her room – not that long ago, not at all, less than a week, even though it feels like another lifetime – Koby tenses a little, reflexively at the movement towards his face. But Alicent’s bandaged thumb strokes over his cheek, and there’s a sour-sweet ache in his throat, his chest, his stomach, recognizing how devastating the loss of her would be. He doesn’t want to even entertain the idea, refuses to let it snag claws into his mind, his too-open, too-tender heart, but: it’s there. It’s already there.
Tilting his head just slightly into her hand, a lifetime without touch making him hungry, greedy for it, Koby smiles a little at her description.] Hightower. Like a lighthouse. It suits you, Alicent. [Nautical themes, always, for him – but that idea fits, much more than a dragon, all the teeth and fire and destruction. A lighthouse is strong, stoic, solid, it guides and shepherds ships to safety, it pierces the deepest, darkest storms and tethers the despairing crew to hope. It’s the kind of name to be proud of.
If you were my boy twinges in his chest, but Koby doesn’t – dare that presumption. She’d said it to comfort, and she hasn’t revoked it, and that is more than he’s ever had before. Still, thoughtful, eyes closing for a brief moment:] I don’t have one. A family name. The orphanage named us alphabetically, and “K” was next up when I arrived. I guess I got lucky, more or less. There was another girl named “Koala”, there.
[Opening his eyes, even though he has to squint a bit to see her:] I’m not going to give up either. Not until there’s justice for your family and the other guests. For Embry. [Koby hasn’t forgotten. He’s panicked, he’s spiraled and been reeled back and now he has work to do.]
[ She feels Koby tense and relax under her hand, like her Aemond in this way and no other: Unused to tenderness, at least of this kind. She resolves to offer it more freely, more regularly, for as long as she can. As such, Alicent lingers, allowing him to lean into the cup of her hand.
(Part of her believes she will be targeted next, for leading a block to vote even though it was Baela who commanded the floor. Paul and Alina’s words have assured all know her role in cementing their alliance. If not her, then she fears for Baela. If not her, then she has no choice but to consider the role of her closest friends, who might spare her and her son out of love even if they are wolves.)
Her mouth quirks, a wobbly thing, no more capable of accepting Koby’s kind words than he sid her soft touch. The Hightower beacon guides ships to safe harbour, tis true; it also calls its banners to war, glowing green as her verdant gowns. She would like to be the former. She fears she is the latter. ]
[ her tone softens, matching his thoughtful lilt, ] When there is a child born outside a noble house in Westeros, a bastard in true, we name them for the land of their birth. Snow, in the north. Stone, the mountains. Sand, the desert.
[ The smallfolk do not claim any name, but it matters not. Koby deserves all. A name, a family, a home. ]
Perhaps you are Koby of the Seas, without need of a traditional House or its constraints, brave and free as you have become. [ ignoring the manor, he seems to have made a worthy life for himself among his crew. ] As you will be again, when this is done.
[ Something she would like to believe, if only for Koby’s sake. She and Aemond will return their ends, if they leave this place, but Koby — he might find more adventures, brighter shores, an endless blue expanse. She prefers that, for him. ]
[Oddly, while Koby had stuck firmly to his own crew -- even as it splintered beneath him, as Luffy and Sanji altered their votes, as the tenuous ties, strained by the panic and fear, began to splinter -- he respects how Alicent had played the game. Because that's what it is, all this misery, all this pain: a horrible game, for some end that Koby can't quite pinpoint. He has an idea, of course, and he believes to his marrow that every horrible action committed after the masquerade is the fault of the house, the Balfours (maybe, maybe or maybe they're just as trapped as the rest of them?)
Still: she's been brave. A bravery Koby admires, letting out a soft, endlessly weary sigh, curling his mouth into a slight smile that presses his cheek closer into her hand.] That's clever. Everyone would be "of the Seas" where I'm from, but...here it feels like it could be mine. It reminds me of home. Of -- the village, too. [A beat, realizing how very, very much Alicent doesn't know about him, about what happened between his world and this one.] I was somewhere else, before. I hadn't had time to mention it, I don't think, but -- there, we were changed, our minds, our bodies. That's why I think there's nothing this place couldn't do to us. And I think...turning on one another is what it wants. How it's fed.
[At her last comment, Koby actually laughs, a watery sort of sound, reaching up to cover her hand with his, squeeze gently.] You want to know the strangest part? Before all this, I'd started to feel...almost happy here. I miss home, I miss people I left behind, but...but I've been away almost a year now. I was beginning to think this place could be home too. [A pause, a quiet, knowing look.] At home, the Straw Hats are my enemies. We're on opposite sides of a war. But here, they're my crew. They're my family.
...maybe that could happen for others here. If...that's what they wanted. [It feels absurd to even suggest it, but -- a deadly feud between family, set aside for the sake of this wretched game. Koby feels naive believing it could last in any way, but if Alicent is anything like him (and he thinks she may be, she may have something within her that aches for a sweeter, softer life, without war, without what's awaiting her at home), maybe she wants that for herself.]
[ Even red-rimmed and puffy, Alicent’s eyes remain watchful, assessing the litttle shifts in Koby’s features, the wetness still clinging to his lashes. She listens, rapt, as he describes the place that came before this — a possibility that boggles the mind, when this manor already stands striking and strange.
The corners of her mouth tug downward, at the mention of war. Of course she was naive to think Koby might find a place untouched by struggle.
She musters a knowing, sad smile. ]
Our war has been written in the stars, I fear. Or in blood, when my husband took me to wife and to bed. [ twin bloodlines, doomed to struggle. One cannot take the throne while the other persists. ] We have not forgiven each other’s actions, merely united to lessen the pain for the innocent and seek justice for the lost. I do not anticipate mercy or kindness for my actions this day, not from Daemon Targaryen.
[ Any chance of peace died with Rhaenyra. If Alina was wrong about anything today, it’s this: Alicent has never believed she or her children will be spared. Viserys proved that to her on Driftmark. ]
I don't know if it's relevant, where I was in-between. But the ways they changed us, changed our bodies, turned us into something else...it might be helpful. It might change someone's mind, about whether the wolves are acting under their own power. [Talking about the village makes Koby's stomach turn a little, with nausea, with longing? With a little of each, if he's being truthful. It had been terrible, it had been familiar. He'd known how to keep his friends, his crew safe -- keep them warm, keep them fed. It was simpler.
Nothing is simple now, least of all the machinations at work within Alicent's family. Koby's brow furrows at the explanation, the words that's not fair written all across his face. Alicent had been a Hightower, an outside player, had been wed when she was younger than Koby is now. The words are childish, and he knows it, but they slip out anyway:] That isn't your fault. You didn't ask for any of that. You -- didn't have a choice.
[He knows. He remembers the older girls who'd married, who lived with a baby on one hip and another clinging to their skirts, another growing inside them. He remembers the ones who seemed exhausted and ragged and perpetually hollowed out by their new lives. How they were the lucky ones.]
And you played the game smartly, Alicent. Whatever else is at play, you made the alliances you needed to and kept them even through all that... [Koby waves a hand, meant to encompass the ballroom, the accusation and fighting and anger.] When nobody else could. I think anyone who underestimates that is an idiot. [Daemon included, thinking maybe that because Alicent and Aemond are the only Greens here that there's an advantage. Koby knows better than to assume old wounds are forgiven, just because of the house's madness.]
[ If she could, Alicent would shut out any thought of Koby in a place worse than this, just as she rejects that Aemond may yet die. It would be foolish to spurn his experiences and knowledge, however, least of all when they mirror what she believes true for Alia. ]
It is relevant, Koby. We must remind others that none of us may be fully ourselves, in this game.
[ As for his defense of her, it — it aches to hear it, in truth. After going so long without support or companionship, the presence of it now is overwhelming, as food would be to the starved. It nearly burns, even if she wants for it all the same.
Did she play the game smartly or coldly, selfishly or wisely? ]
I suppose I did not. [ have a choice, that is. She cards her hand back through Koby’s pale strands. ] I forsook one alliance for another, when I bled House Atreides. We shall see if the gods punish me for my sins — or if the Wolves target me for my role in this vote — but I will not rest, until justice is done.
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no subject
For a moment Koby let's himself imagine Alvida and Alicent, imagines how the former would quail before the gravitas and weight of the latter's presence. Alvida kept her power through fear, violence, threats. She manipulated and terrorized the crew and saved her cruelest words for a frightened, trapped boy who'd fallen into her web by mistake.
Alicent would've eaten her alive. That thought is some comfort, amidst the misery of this week.
If you were my boy prompts a throbbing stab of longing so raw that Koby knows its written all over his teary face, stark in his bright eyes. He swallows hard, hoarse, keeps his callused palm open for the steadying press of Alicent's bandaged thumb.] I would've liked that. [The education, yes, of course, unimaginable for someone in his situation. But belonging to someone, belonging to her-- that's what he really means.]
You are too. Kind, I mean. You've been it to me, and I -- [A slow, steadying inhale, well-aware he's trembling all over, exhausted and aching and sick with fear.] I didn't ask you here to talk about my past. I asked you because -- because you've been so kind, because I trust you and because.
Quentin’s named Baela. As his vote. [The trembling intensifies, and Koby wants to just burst into tears again, lose himself to fear, but he forces himself to meet Alicent's reddened eyes.] He did it to comfort a friend, not to harm, and I -- I know your family won't see it that way, I know I wouldn't, if it were one of my crew, but.
[Shaking, cold fingers curl around Alicent's hand, pleading, desperate with love, with fear.] I can't lose him. I can't. I'll lose my mind, I won't be able to survive this place. I'm not -- asking you to intercede or -- or defend him, I just. I need to know how I can. What your family will respect. What I can do to keep him safe.
[The tears are back, choking his throat, hot over his reddened cheeks, bright in his stricken, pleading eyes.] Please. I love him s-so much, Alicent, I'll -- do anything I have to. Anything.
Please.
no subject
she sees herself in koby still, for how he begs the life of one who has betrayed another — hasn’t she interceded the same for rhaenyra? for aemond? her gaze flickers to his hands and back to his face. ]
I will not lie. Your Q has slighted mine — even Aemond will mislike it. Worse, he threatened what little family remains to Daemon, who will not hear my words or forget this sin. A dragon will not lower its head to accept an apology. [ these words are not a comfort, she knows, but they are true; this is the type of mother she has always been. ]
I would say you are lucky that another killer of our kin remains loose in the manor, for neither Aemond nor Daemon will waste their time on a lesser slight. [ her mouth thins — ] Your greater concern should be this: Q has cast a vote for one he knows to be innocent, a most suspicious act in a game of wolves hunting sheep. Let us not forget, a tall man with a mask of orange, pink, or red hunted Alina and likely Rhaenyra, too. [ it could be q, it could not be. others have been accused for less. ]
He will need tread very carefully, if he is innocent in this game. I hope we do not need to repeat the affairs of this night, but if we do — you would be wise to guide his vote towards one who actually appears suspect, for his sake.
no subject
And there is some comfort in Alicent not giving him a soft, vague answer. It means, perhaps, she thinks him strong enough to handle the stark, brutal truth: there is nothing they can do. She has her family, he has his crew and Quentin, and if the roll of the dice claims one or all, neither of them can stop it. All they can do is wait.]
Thank you. I -- think I sort of expected that. I hoped there was something I could do but. [Koby falters, looks down at her hand in his for a long moment, then curls his fingers gently around her bandages, mindful of the sting, the throb of torn cuticle.] I'm not the only one with people I love in danger.
And you shouldn't have to bear that, not from me. [A huffy, a reflexive reach up to push glasses that aren't there into place.] Not very soldier-like of me, to panic. I'm sorry, Alicent. I'm so -- sorry this is happening.
[But, because he knows she's no child too, no wilting flower that needs to be comforted:] The game is going to keep going until one team wins. Until all the wolves are caught, or... [Or we're all dead.]
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They will not strike him for his actions this day, not when the wolves stalk us so. [ it's he only assurance she give. there are greater threats than a single vote. ]
[ quietly urging, then: ] I still trust you in this, Koby. And Tim. But your Q — even Hawk, I do not know. How long has he known the man accused of killing Embry was a danger? [ another mask of red, pink or orange. another potential killer of her own. ] And if one I loved as mine own daughter could claim a life so young, so precious, I fear nothing is sacred. We must both be watchful, even of those we trust.
[ she does not name louis as one she doubts, but she fears for him all the same. ]
no subject
Somewhere, in the back of his mind, where if you were my boy is curled up warm and comforting, like a sleeping cat, Koby wonders: what if I'd been something else? What if I'd been what I am, but yours instead? What would you have done?
He puts the thought out of his mind, glances down at her hands, thoughtfully.] I don't know. I trust -- a lot of people, but I also believe this place can make us do terrible things, things we wouldn't do. It can make even the most wonderful, kind, caring person into a monster. [The name in his mind is the same, and he shoves it away violently, firmly, even as he opens the possibility that it could be anyone, anyone.
Then he looks up, red-rimmed eyes serious, intent. He doesn't look young and fearful and fragile, like he had even moments ago.] If it comes to it, if the evidence is there against someone I love, or...or even me, you need to follow logic, again. Don't think of it as a betrayal. Think of it as saving someone from themselves, before this place can hurt them anymore.
And I'll look. [Red, orange, pink. A man in a mask the color of sunsets. A man who may not know his own monstrosity until its too late.] I won't give up until we're all safe again.
no subject
[ the boy she told him he was, clever and brave, coming to the same conclusion that she had this morning: even those they love may be guilty. alicent lifts a hand to his jaw, thumb arcing over his cheek. ]
Have I told you I am not a Targaryen in true? I am a Hightower by blood. And our House words command this of me: We light the way. [ a beacon in the harbour, a hand tipping the scales to achieve a righteous end. ] I will pursue justice, however dangerous the path becomes. You must do the same.
[ looking upon her and hers. she finds herself grateful baela’s role has become self-evident, protection against future accusations, if they can convince others of their theory. ]
no subject
Tilting his head just slightly into her hand, a lifetime without touch making him hungry, greedy for it, Koby smiles a little at her description.] Hightower. Like a lighthouse. It suits you, Alicent. [Nautical themes, always, for him – but that idea fits, much more than a dragon, all the teeth and fire and destruction. A lighthouse is strong, stoic, solid, it guides and shepherds ships to safety, it pierces the deepest, darkest storms and tethers the despairing crew to hope. It’s the kind of name to be proud of.
If you were my boy twinges in his chest, but Koby doesn’t – dare that presumption. She’d said it to comfort, and she hasn’t revoked it, and that is more than he’s ever had before. Still, thoughtful, eyes closing for a brief moment:] I don’t have one. A family name. The orphanage named us alphabetically, and “K” was next up when I arrived. I guess I got lucky, more or less. There was another girl named “Koala”, there.
[Opening his eyes, even though he has to squint a bit to see her:] I’m not going to give up either. Not until there’s justice for your family and the other guests. For Embry. [Koby hasn’t forgotten. He’s panicked, he’s spiraled and been reeled back and now he has work to do.]
no subject
(Part of her believes she will be targeted next, for leading a block to vote even though it was Baela who commanded the floor. Paul and Alina’s words have assured all know her role in cementing their alliance. If not her, then she fears for Baela. If not her, then she has no choice but to consider the role of her closest friends, who might spare her and her son out of love even if they are wolves.)
Her mouth quirks, a wobbly thing, no more capable of accepting Koby’s kind words than he sid her soft touch. The Hightower beacon guides ships to safe harbour, tis true; it also calls its banners to war, glowing green as her verdant gowns. She would like to be the former. She fears she is the latter. ]
[ her tone softens, matching his thoughtful lilt, ] When there is a child born outside a noble house in Westeros, a bastard in true, we name them for the land of their birth. Snow, in the north. Stone, the mountains. Sand, the desert.
[ The smallfolk do not claim any name, but it matters not. Koby deserves all. A name, a family, a home. ]
Perhaps you are Koby of the Seas, without need of a traditional House or its constraints, brave and free as you have become. [ ignoring the manor, he seems to have made a worthy life for himself among his crew. ] As you will be again, when this is done.
[ Something she would like to believe, if only for Koby’s sake. She and Aemond will return their ends, if they leave this place, but Koby — he might find more adventures, brighter shores, an endless blue expanse. She prefers that, for him. ]
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Still: she's been brave. A bravery Koby admires, letting out a soft, endlessly weary sigh, curling his mouth into a slight smile that presses his cheek closer into her hand.] That's clever. Everyone would be "of the Seas" where I'm from, but...here it feels like it could be mine. It reminds me of home. Of -- the village, too. [A beat, realizing how very, very much Alicent doesn't know about him, about what happened between his world and this one.] I was somewhere else, before. I hadn't had time to mention it, I don't think, but -- there, we were changed, our minds, our bodies. That's why I think there's nothing this place couldn't do to us. And I think...turning on one another is what it wants. How it's fed.
[At her last comment, Koby actually laughs, a watery sort of sound, reaching up to cover her hand with his, squeeze gently.] You want to know the strangest part? Before all this, I'd started to feel...almost happy here. I miss home, I miss people I left behind, but...but I've been away almost a year now. I was beginning to think this place could be home too. [A pause, a quiet, knowing look.] At home, the Straw Hats are my enemies. We're on opposite sides of a war. But here, they're my crew. They're my family.
...maybe that could happen for others here. If...that's what they wanted. [It feels absurd to even suggest it, but -- a deadly feud between family, set aside for the sake of this wretched game. Koby feels naive believing it could last in any way, but if Alicent is anything like him (and he thinks she may be, she may have something within her that aches for a sweeter, softer life, without war, without what's awaiting her at home), maybe she wants that for herself.]
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The corners of her mouth tug downward, at the mention of war. Of course she was naive to think Koby might find a place untouched by struggle.
She musters a knowing, sad smile. ]
Our war has been written in the stars, I fear. Or in blood, when my husband took me to wife and to bed. [ twin bloodlines, doomed to struggle. One cannot take the throne while the other persists. ] We have not forgiven each other’s actions, merely united to lessen the pain for the innocent and seek justice for the lost. I do not anticipate mercy or kindness for my actions this day, not from Daemon Targaryen.
[ Any chance of peace died with Rhaenyra. If Alina was wrong about anything today, it’s this: Alicent has never believed she or her children will be spared. Viserys proved that to her on Driftmark. ]
no subject
Nothing is simple now, least of all the machinations at work within Alicent's family. Koby's brow furrows at the explanation, the words that's not fair written all across his face. Alicent had been a Hightower, an outside player, had been wed when she was younger than Koby is now. The words are childish, and he knows it, but they slip out anyway:] That isn't your fault. You didn't ask for any of that. You -- didn't have a choice.
[He knows. He remembers the older girls who'd married, who lived with a baby on one hip and another clinging to their skirts, another growing inside them. He remembers the ones who seemed exhausted and ragged and perpetually hollowed out by their new lives. How they were the lucky ones.]
And you played the game smartly, Alicent. Whatever else is at play, you made the alliances you needed to and kept them even through all that... [Koby waves a hand, meant to encompass the ballroom, the accusation and fighting and anger.] When nobody else could. I think anyone who underestimates that is an idiot. [Daemon included, thinking maybe that because Alicent and Aemond are the only Greens here that there's an advantage. Koby knows better than to assume old wounds are forgiven, just because of the house's madness.]
no subject
It is relevant, Koby. We must remind others that none of us may be fully ourselves, in this game.
[ As for his defense of her, it — it aches to hear it, in truth. After going so long without support or companionship, the presence of it now is overwhelming, as food would be to the starved. It nearly burns, even if she wants for it all the same.
Did she play the game smartly or coldly, selfishly or wisely? ]
I suppose I did not. [ have a choice, that is. She cards her hand back through Koby’s pale strands. ] I forsook one alliance for another, when I bled House Atreides. We shall see if the gods punish me for my sins — or if the Wolves target me for my role in this vote — but I will not rest, until justice is done.
[ or she can’t seem it any longer. ]