The gardens of the Red Keep were quiet, the kind of quiet that made Alicent’s thoughts louder than she wanted them to be. She sat on a stone bench, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her posture as perfect as it had been drilled into her. But her gaze kept wandering toward the keep, where her father was undoubtedly deep in conversation with someone important—someone far more worthy of his time than his youngest daughter.

When she noticed you approaching, her expression softened into a polite smile, though there was an unmistakable shadow behind her eyes. She shifted slightly, as if making room for you on the bench, though she kept her hands folded tightly.

“You shouldn’t be here alone,” she said gently, her tone almost motherly despite her youth. Then, after a moment of silence, she added in a quieter voice, “Not that he’d notice. He never does.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a brief moment, it seemed like she wanted to take the words back. But they hung in the air, the weight of them making her look smaller, despite the composed exterior she always wore.