[ just as alina flinches from her inspection, alicent braces under her touch, certain that a slap would sting less than the gentle arc of her thumb. why do you destroy yourself? her father’s eternal question looping in her unquiet, sleepless mind and aching fingers. a counter forms now where she has never before allowed it: how dare he ask why she burned, when it was he who walked her to the pyre?

the compliment (and she sees it as such) finds her wounded flesh, a balm to the deepest and oldest ache inside her. ]

They give us roles to imprison us. [ agreement, almost warm, on her tongue. roles within and outwith the game, for how different is a wolf from a pawn, or a mayor from a queen? ] I was not clever enough to see it as a girl, but now.

[ a shake of her head, a tousle of her hair, attempting to rid herself of lingering weakness. now alicent knows she did not lose her way. it was taken from her. she will not allow that again. ]

Nor should you. [ you meaning we. ] It shall remove one uncontrollable piece from the board, regardless. [ daemon, a known danger, or david, an unknown threat. it matters not. she releases the white strand only to slide her hand under alina’s sharp jaw, meeting her gaze. ]

And leave the wolves for us to claim.

[ like a prized kill or a cursed throne. they’ve three shots in the game and an endless number outwith it. better odds than the last round, if they aim wisely. ]