[ it feels strange to says he’s proud of him, when so many are lost, but she is. few would choose duty over love.
and hopefully, the wolves who would target him and hawk have been sentenced to the dungeon for the remainder of the game. ]
It was, as was that of Koby and his crew. We now know two seers speak true.
Have you space at your bedside for me? I know it was a most coveted spot this past week.
[ she only flitted in to see him briefly, when he was first injured, thrust into the throes of another investigation — and daemon’s bloody pursuit of justice — soon after. ]
We'll have to hope that they see again. Koby's promised to tell me what his crew comes up with, after the mess last time. And with your source, we should have two again.
What are you implying? I always have space for you.
[ Tim's room is a little neater than the last time she visited, in the aftermath of last week's attack - there's still far too many chairs strewn about for the number of people who actually live here, for accommodating Alicent's family and others like Koby and Quentin deemed close enough by Tim. But the dresser's been moved back into place, the dirty mugs and tea bags tidied up, and the unsightly bruising on his neck covered with a turtleneck. He's got a slight raspiness in his voice still, but he greets her warmly, with a tight hug. Generally, he'd have more decorum than to initiate one, but he's so relieved he can hardly think of another way to express it.
If something happened to her as soon as he stopped protecting her, there would be no visitors of any sort. ]
Thanks for coming.
[ Really, he could have gone downstairs to eat breakfast with everyone, if not for the stench of more death tainting everything. He's feeling...better, or as close to it as the circumstances would allow. But it's nicer to stay in sometimes. ]
[ It’s certainly bold — but Alicent finds she doesn’t mind it, stiff arms soon encircling his back, leaning up on her toes to tuck her head into his neck. Unused to affection, not against it.
A frightful thought, unbidden: She could not say what she would do if any more of hers had been taken (Tim, Koby, Aemond). Losing Rhaenyra and Paul had ached enough, for how she knows those losses will repeat (A queen and a son, still to be claimed by the Stranger in time).
Though she pulls back, her hands linger on his arms, anchoring and assuring. ]
Of course. [ She should have stayed longer, when he was at his weakest, despite how it reminded her of her dying husband and son. ]
[ tipping her head to one side, ] It is a strange thing, to mourn those who would see my sons dead. [ Alina had been right, when she said as much. ] Jacaerys was only a boy, but Daemon — he has been a threat to my blood and thorn in my side since I wed his brother. [ Tim’s god would ask her to forgive, she knows it, but there can be no quarter for a man as vile as Daemon Targaryen. Simply, ] I weep for Rhaenyra, not for him.
[ Will it change anything for Aemond, if Daemon is dead? Who else might be strong enough to kill her second son, as fierce as the dragon he rides? Thoughts for another time, once the game is ended. ]
You were most valiant in the vote, particularly in the face of such wretchedness.
[ The vileness of Danny’s crimes unsettles her more than any other. Worse, so many men knew — Embry, Louis, Ash, Hawk, Tim — and yet what did they do, before others suffered? Did they ever think to tell Greer, who loved Embry best? Perhaps her womanhood excluded her from these monstrous secrets, as Alicent’s always has. ]
Aemond's description of him was not very flattering. But it's still hard, I'm sure.
[ It's true that God would ask them to forgive. It's also true that if the things Aemond says of him are true, he'd be cast into Hell for them, if they're not all there already. Would Tim be pure enough in his faith to forgive someone who sought to kill his own children? He's not a father, and won't ever be, but even still, he can't imagine he would be. He's far from perfect himself, he can't ask her to be. ]
Thank you.
[ He hadn't felt valiant. He was terrified and in pain from the moment he started speaking to the one where the final vote was counted, hurt from being blindsided by Koby's crew, stressed from Hawk's need to fight with everyone Tim cares about that dared to voice anything but unconditional support - it felt like a disaster. And yet, it worked out in the end. For now.
Tim rubs his hand over his face, taking off his glasses and setting them down on the table. Just for something to do, he puts the kettle on. ]
I should have said something earlier. I wanted to. I'm sorry. He made me promise.
[ Alicent moves to take a seat, but stops at Tim’s words. It’s obvious what Tim means to apologise for — the very thing that has rankled inside her since Ash named Danny Johnson in the eleventh hour. She looks down, mouth twisting as her hands clasp. ]
It is — typical, to keep women from ugliness. I should have expected no different in this place. [ From you. Men have always wanted to protect her. They have rarely treated her as an equal — like Tim had. Or she thought. She does not know any longer. Her gaze lifts, fixed to the left of Tim’s head, mind elsewhere. ]
I wish Hawk had not lied to those who loved Embry best or risked the lives of others, including you, for this secret. [ sharper, ] You and Alina have paid dearly for his folly. [ And to what end? Pride? Selfishness? ] I would not punish you further.
[ The Gods take the blood of the innocent as payment. They always have. Hawkins Fuller will hear her condemnation, if not for Embry, then for Alina — the very girl whose suffering he dismissed before all, knowing exactly who might be responsible for her anguish. ]
[ The implication sits heavy in his gut, as if he’d swallowed lead. Part of him rankles with offense - why would he have followed her lead for the entirety of this grotesque game, putting his friendships and his own life at risk in the process, if her womanhood were the issue? That’s not it, it’s bigger and more pitiful than that, and so the larger part is shame. For what he’s done, and what he’ll keep doing, time and time again, more and more often, because his demand to be included can mean nothing else but knowing terrible things. ]
It wasn’t because you’re a woman, he wouldn’t have even told me if he thought he could clean it up quick enough on his own. [ Soft, like a plea, like a prayer he’ll be believed. ] It’s Hawk, he—He's stubborn, he insists on taking care of everything himself, no matter how dirty. He made me swear to keep quiet so that he could handle it on his own, so I did. I don’t...I don’t know how to say no to him. I try and I try, but it never sticks, and I make these ugly compromises that hurt people, only to have to be the one to put Danny away anyway--
[ Tim’s breath quickens, and so he stops, wipes his eyes, breathes in slowly to calm himself down. It hardly helps. If the version of himself from a year ago could see him now, he’d be sick. It wasn’t that long ago that the damning latter which cleared Mary but outed Caroline, written with Hawk’s word but Tim’s hand, had been the ugliest thing he’d ever done. How many times has he topped that in the last month alone? Keeping Embry’s murder a secret, outing Alia, bartering lives with Bella and Alina. It keeps him up at night later than the pain from his attack or the fear for his life. The fear for his soul is far greater. What will be left of it, when this game is through? ]
It was my own weakness keeping me quiet. That's all. And I’ll be sorry for it until God sees fit to remove me from this place.
[ If her womanhood is not at fault, then it must be the fact of her. Queen Alicent Hightower, cold in her sentencing of the guilty or mad in her pursuit of justice — womanly afflictions, true, but the realm’s delight would never be so cruel, nor would Good Queen Aemma, ever so sickly and sweet. Her back straightens, her nails bite the vulnerable skin of her palm (a Queen’s flesh, uncalloused and unworked), her eyes flash, meeting Tim’s despite her desire to remain aloof.
But Tim says Hawk, names his love and himself as the root of this bloodshed, this pain, and she — everything shifts, the terrain as unsteady as the deck of a ship, chasing the tide. She watches him curl inward, self flagellating for her benefit or his punishment. Both, perhaps.
She rearranges her features into neutrality, even as she traces the pained lines in Tim’s face. Unsaid: I do wonder if Hawk told the Lady Greer or if he informed Ash alone. A comment on the nature of women’s involvement in this, meant for Hawk and Ash, not Tim. She doubts it. Greer had not seemed angry at the funeral, merely sad. Men don’t always exclude women intentionally; they also do it unthinkingly, by never considering them in the first place. ]
[ sharply, ] Your choices damned Alina twice-over. [ the hurt slips into her voice, held back by a need to be strong for all but herself until now. ] And Rhaenyra, if our theory about wolves striking again proves true.
[ She lets that sit, punishing. If Danny stalked Alina in the maze, he likely took Rhaenyra from this world when Paul protected his initial target. The two most important women in this place, in her life, jeopardised by the selfishness of men. She cannot forget it, however much she yearns to reach Tim now and soothe his hurts. His love may have cost Alicent her own, no matter how sorry he feels for it. Everyone is always sorry after the fact, aren’t they? ]
I would not call that a compromise.
[ For who benefitted but Hawkins Fuller and Danny Johnson? I don’t know how to say no to him conjures a few unflattering comparisons in her mind. No, Hawk is not so cunning as her father, or as wicked as her councillor. He’s only a man, grieving as she was when she crowned her son before the eyes of gods and men. A prideful, foolish man. And Tim — good, but corruptible, like any other. Hadn’t she bent her most gallant knight to her desires just the same? ]
What would you say now, if I had done this to you? [ Paul asked her that, too, as if they might deny each other when they so badly want for closeness. ] If Hawk and Koby or Quentin had been attacked, as mine were, and I knew who wielded the blade. If I knew and said nothing.
[ They only cared when it was Tim.
Her nails break skin, and the pain in her hand numbs her heart enough that she does not take the words back immediately or beg forgiveness. Alicent holds her ground. ]
[ Soft and raspy still from all the talking, his eyes turned towards the floor in shame. He knows. It would hurt less if it were a new slap in the face, an accusation he hasn’t already levied at himself, but it’s true, the knuckle’s been twisting between his ribs since before Alicent knew and found the opportunity to put his misdeeds so succinctly. Tim put his devotion before everyone else, and it had cost them. Maybe Hawk was right, that he could have handled it himself if this brutal game hadn’t started, but would that even matter? Or is it just more bargaining and delusion, trying to justify to himself why this or that sin doesn’t count if it’s for love?
It hurts to hear, coming from Alicent. That’s exactly why it should.
Tim listens, lets every word turn to lead in his gut. He reaches for the back of his neck as if to scratch an itch, and presses his fingertips into the bruise with a wince. A reminder of the consequences of his poor decisions, that it was dumb luck that it’s only a bruise and not a gash to pull his fingers from, bloodied. ]
I’d be furious. You have every right to be.
[ She doesn’t have to take it back or beg forgiveness. He knows. He knows. His only defense is that he didn’t before, that he trusted Hawk, that he couldn’t have foreseen how horribly and quickly things would escalate. But ignorance is no excuse. ]
You’re right about all of it. And I’ve paid for it. You don’t have to forgive me, but if you can at least believe that I’ve learned, I’d be grateful.
[ Even as she levies her exclusion at him, she knows Tim does not think her less for being a woman (for being weak). He did not trust her with this — but he did with so much else. His role, Alia’s abilities, his conflicted heart. And yet it is impossible to look at the scar upon and his neck and not think of Alina, decrying how no one would take her side. Alicent has been the mad woman begging for justice, wild-eyed and desperate, as none listened. They did not care that her son’s eye was taken on Driftmark. Even her guard did not stand for her. None ever apologised to her or her son. They won’t.
That Tim apologises now is — a start. Miraculous, in truth, when her sons and councillors would not dare admit the guilt or regret an apology requires. The vile, hateful part of her wants to counter: You have not paid. Alina was attacked twice and lost her love. As if Tim’s singular encounter is any less of a horror for not repeating and spreading. When they compare their hurts, everyone suffers. That’s partly why Aemond spins himself in circles now, frustrated and exhausted. One hurt cannot not be repaid with another. The cycle would be endless. Pointless.
She will think this again and again as the killings persist in the coming weeks.
Now, she steps closer to him, her injured hand curled at her side while she raises the other to tip his chin to meet her gaze. The most motherly she has ever dared be with one older than her sons. ]
[ not unkindly, then — ] Forgiving you will be easier. [ Than believing it won’t happen again. I don’t know how to say no to him echoes in her mind. The affection she feels for him persists despite it. She would forgive him most things, after all he has done for her and her blood. It isn’t in his nature to harm or deceive; she knows that. ]
But we will find our way through this, Tim, like everything else.
no subject
and hopefully, the wolves who would target him and hawk have been sentenced to the dungeon for the remainder of the game. ]
It was, as was that of Koby and his crew.
We now know two seers speak true.
Have you space at your bedside for me? I know it was a most coveted spot this past week.
[ she only flitted in to see him briefly, when he was first injured, thrust into the throes of another investigation — and daemon’s bloody pursuit of justice — soon after. ]
no subject
What are you implying? I always have space for you.
no subject
Shall I bring you breakfast? They’ve the darling pastries Alia is most fond of today, so I’ll be carrying one to her as well.
[ cinnamon rolls 😔 ]
no subject
I'd like that. Better start before the doctors finish and we'll have no peace, again.
no subject
[ with how crucial their knowledge has been. ]
I’ll be there shortly.
no subject
If something happened to her as soon as he stopped protecting her, there would be no visitors of any sort. ]
Thanks for coming.
[ Really, he could have gone downstairs to eat breakfast with everyone, if not for the stench of more death tainting everything. He's feeling...better, or as close to it as the circumstances would allow. But it's nicer to stay in sometimes. ]
How are you feeling?
[ Jace gone again. Daemon. ]
no subject
A frightful thought, unbidden: She could not say what she would do if any more of hers had been taken (Tim, Koby, Aemond). Losing Rhaenyra and Paul had ached enough, for how she knows those losses will repeat (A queen and a son, still to be claimed by the Stranger in time).
Though she pulls back, her hands linger on his arms, anchoring and assuring. ]
Of course. [ She should have stayed longer, when he was at his weakest, despite how it reminded her of her dying husband and son. ]
[ tipping her head to one side, ] It is a strange thing, to mourn those who would see my sons dead. [ Alina had been right, when she said as much. ] Jacaerys was only a boy, but Daemon — he has been a threat to my blood and thorn in my side since I wed his brother. [ Tim’s god would ask her to forgive, she knows it, but there can be no quarter for a man as vile as Daemon Targaryen. Simply, ] I weep for Rhaenyra, not for him.
[ Will it change anything for Aemond, if Daemon is dead? Who else might be strong enough to kill her second son, as fierce as the dragon he rides? Thoughts for another time, once the game is ended. ]
You were most valiant in the vote, particularly in the face of such wretchedness.
[ The vileness of Danny’s crimes unsettles her more than any other. Worse, so many men knew — Embry, Louis, Ash, Hawk, Tim — and yet what did they do, before others suffered? Did they ever think to tell Greer, who loved Embry best? Perhaps her womanhood excluded her from these monstrous secrets, as Alicent’s always has. ]
no subject
[ It's true that God would ask them to forgive. It's also true that if the things Aemond says of him are true, he'd be cast into Hell for them, if they're not all there already. Would Tim be pure enough in his faith to forgive someone who sought to kill his own children? He's not a father, and won't ever be, but even still, he can't imagine he would be. He's far from perfect himself, he can't ask her to be. ]
Thank you.
[ He hadn't felt valiant. He was terrified and in pain from the moment he started speaking to the one where the final vote was counted, hurt from being blindsided by Koby's crew, stressed from Hawk's need to fight with everyone Tim cares about that dared to voice anything but unconditional support - it felt like a disaster. And yet, it worked out in the end. For now.
Tim rubs his hand over his face, taking off his glasses and setting them down on the table. Just for something to do, he puts the kettle on. ]
I should have said something earlier. I wanted to. I'm sorry. He made me promise.
no subject
It is — typical, to keep women from ugliness. I should have expected no different in this place. [ From you. Men have always wanted to protect her. They have rarely treated her as an equal — like Tim had. Or she thought. She does not know any longer. Her gaze lifts, fixed to the left of Tim’s head, mind elsewhere. ]
I wish Hawk had not lied to those who loved Embry best or risked the lives of others, including you, for this secret. [ sharper, ] You and Alina have paid dearly for his folly. [ And to what end? Pride? Selfishness? ] I would not punish you further.
[ The Gods take the blood of the innocent as payment. They always have. Hawkins Fuller will hear her condemnation, if not for Embry, then for Alina — the very girl whose suffering he dismissed before all, knowing exactly who might be responsible for her anguish. ]
no subject
It wasn’t because you’re a woman, he wouldn’t have even told me if he thought he could clean it up quick enough on his own. [ Soft, like a plea, like a prayer he’ll be believed. ] It’s Hawk, he—He's stubborn, he insists on taking care of everything himself, no matter how dirty. He made me swear to keep quiet so that he could handle it on his own, so I did. I don’t...I don’t know how to say no to him. I try and I try, but it never sticks, and I make these ugly compromises that hurt people, only to have to be the one to put Danny away anyway--
[ Tim’s breath quickens, and so he stops, wipes his eyes, breathes in slowly to calm himself down. It hardly helps. If the version of himself from a year ago could see him now, he’d be sick. It wasn’t that long ago that the damning latter which cleared Mary but outed Caroline, written with Hawk’s word but Tim’s hand, had been the ugliest thing he’d ever done. How many times has he topped that in the last month alone? Keeping Embry’s murder a secret, outing Alia, bartering lives with Bella and Alina. It keeps him up at night later than the pain from his attack or the fear for his life. The fear for his soul is far greater. What will be left of it, when this game is through? ]
It was my own weakness keeping me quiet. That's all. And I’ll be sorry for it until God sees fit to remove me from this place.
no subject
But Tim says Hawk, names his love and himself as the root of this bloodshed, this pain, and she — everything shifts, the terrain as unsteady as the deck of a ship, chasing the tide. She watches him curl inward, self flagellating for her benefit or his punishment. Both, perhaps.
She rearranges her features into neutrality, even as she traces the pained lines in Tim’s face. Unsaid: I do wonder if Hawk told the Lady Greer or if he informed Ash alone. A comment on the nature of women’s involvement in this, meant for Hawk and Ash, not Tim. She doubts it. Greer had not seemed angry at the funeral, merely sad. Men don’t always exclude women intentionally; they also do it unthinkingly, by never considering them in the first place. ]
[ sharply, ] Your choices damned Alina twice-over. [ the hurt slips into her voice, held back by a need to be strong for all but herself until now. ] And Rhaenyra, if our theory about wolves striking again proves true.
[ She lets that sit, punishing. If Danny stalked Alina in the maze, he likely took Rhaenyra from this world when Paul protected his initial target. The two most important women in this place, in her life, jeopardised by the selfishness of men. She cannot forget it, however much she yearns to reach Tim now and soothe his hurts. His love may have cost Alicent her own, no matter how sorry he feels for it. Everyone is always sorry after the fact, aren’t they? ]
I would not call that a compromise.
[ For who benefitted but Hawkins Fuller and Danny Johnson? I don’t know how to say no to him conjures a few unflattering comparisons in her mind. No, Hawk is not so cunning as her father, or as wicked as her councillor. He’s only a man, grieving as she was when she crowned her son before the eyes of gods and men. A prideful, foolish man. And Tim — good, but corruptible, like any other. Hadn’t she bent her most gallant knight to her desires just the same? ]
What would you say now, if I had done this to you? [ Paul asked her that, too, as if they might deny each other when they so badly want for closeness. ] If Hawk and Koby or Quentin had been attacked, as mine were, and I knew who wielded the blade. If I knew and said nothing.
[ They only cared when it was Tim.
Her nails break skin, and the pain in her hand numbs her heart enough that she does not take the words back immediately or beg forgiveness. Alicent holds her ground. ]
cw mild self-harm
[ Soft and raspy still from all the talking, his eyes turned towards the floor in shame. He knows. It would hurt less if it were a new slap in the face, an accusation he hasn’t already levied at himself, but it’s true, the knuckle’s been twisting between his ribs since before Alicent knew and found the opportunity to put his misdeeds so succinctly. Tim put his devotion before everyone else, and it had cost them. Maybe Hawk was right, that he could have handled it himself if this brutal game hadn’t started, but would that even matter? Or is it just more bargaining and delusion, trying to justify to himself why this or that sin doesn’t count if it’s for love?
It hurts to hear, coming from Alicent. That’s exactly why it should.
Tim listens, lets every word turn to lead in his gut. He reaches for the back of his neck as if to scratch an itch, and presses his fingertips into the bruise with a wince. A reminder of the consequences of his poor decisions, that it was dumb luck that it’s only a bruise and not a gash to pull his fingers from, bloodied. ]
I’d be furious. You have every right to be.
[ She doesn’t have to take it back or beg forgiveness. He knows. He knows. His only defense is that he didn’t before, that he trusted Hawk, that he couldn’t have foreseen how horribly and quickly things would escalate. But ignorance is no excuse. ]
You’re right about all of it. And I’ve paid for it. You don’t have to forgive me, but if you can at least believe that I’ve learned, I’d be grateful.
no subject
That Tim apologises now is — a start. Miraculous, in truth, when her sons and councillors would not dare admit the guilt or regret an apology requires. The vile, hateful part of her wants to counter: You have not paid. Alina was attacked twice and lost her love. As if Tim’s singular encounter is any less of a horror for not repeating and spreading. When they compare their hurts, everyone suffers. That’s partly why Aemond spins himself in circles now, frustrated and exhausted. One hurt cannot not be repaid with another. The cycle would be endless. Pointless.
She will think this again and again as the killings persist in the coming weeks.
Now, she steps closer to him, her injured hand curled at her side while she raises the other to tip his chin to meet her gaze. The most motherly she has ever dared be with one older than her sons. ]
[ not unkindly, then — ] Forgiving you will be easier. [ Than believing it won’t happen again. I don’t know how to say no to him echoes in her mind. The affection she feels for him persists despite it. She would forgive him most things, after all he has done for her and her blood. It isn’t in his nature to harm or deceive; she knows that. ]
But we will find our way through this, Tim, like everything else.