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[holyposition]

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[holyposition]

[ Tim reaches out, gingerly, plucking his glasses from her hand with two fingers, and laughs. They’re as good as garbage now, taped together precariously at the bridge, one lens scratched up so badly from his landing on the table that his vision will be blurred regardless. He lowers his head with, almost embarrassed to find anything about this amusing. It was violent and re-traumatizing – as it turns out, being choked with a belt and a hand aren’t terribly different – he could have very well finished bleeding out in the hallway, if Hawk hadn’t followed his muddled, delirious rambling to the right place.

She offers him a nearly useless pair of glasses, and he can’t help but laugh. Softly, at the silliness of it all, of himself, everything that’s brought them here. ]

Maybe you overindulged. I still offered.

[ He fidgets with the tape strapped over the bridge of his glasses, pressing into it to make a groove for his nose. ]

Nothing after that whole ‘confess your sins’ thing. Actually, there was some kind of New Year’s party, which I didn’t go to because... [ some vague gesture with his hand. Tim was on strict bed rest, after she almost killed him. ] You know. No monsters or murders, but at the stroke of midnight, everyone’s clothes disappeared, so I might have gotten off easy. I should thank you.

[ Only half-kidding. The glasses finally make it onto his face, and they look ridiculous. ]

Can we... [ trailing off, suddenly kicking himself for letting go of that tactile thing for his nervous fingers to work over, itching for a task or a rosary. Tim settles for his own ear, tugs at the lobe as if it needs a stretch. ] I know start over is probably too big of an ask, but I miss you.

[ From the start. The closest thing he’s had to a sister since he fled Maggie’s too-perceptive eye, and distanced himself from Mary. It’s his own fault, his own sin that’s pulled him away from all of them, and he knows that he deserves forgiveness for none of it. That fear or self-preservation or even grief are not excuses, but only more wrongs piled on. He must ask, regardless. It’s not like he can embarrass himself any further. ]

🎀

[unapparent]

[ Tim laughs, and she does, too. Alicent has little to no experience fixing things — with access to a fleet of Westeros’ finest craftsmen anytime it was required before. It’s ridiculous.

She shouldn’t have bothered. (She’s glad she did.) Her mouth quirks, faint but there. ]

We can certainly try.

[ There’s so much between all of the residents of the manor now, after the games, let alone the interpersonal struggles that have played out over weeks and months. It’s not unlike the life she led in Westeros, in truth — with the acts of one’s House and allies reflecting upon oneself; the discord between lovers and friends seeping into other relationships. Her family remains, and she intends to protect them above all here, for as long as she can.

(Because they’ll be gone soon, won’t they?)

But that doesn’t mean she can’t give herself to this place in ways she hasn’t dared. It’s worth trying. ]