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[holyposition]

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cw mild self-harm

[holyposition]

I know.

[ 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.

[unapparent]

[ 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.