#muse; agnes alder

[abhorsenslives]

Cont. from here @eyeofvengeance

Truth be told, Agnes was still trying to grow accustomed to the man she would soon marry. Aemond had shown her a calmer, almost caring side, but that was not all there was to him. Deep down, whenever she glimpsed what he was truly capable of, a flicker of fear ignited within her—a fear not just for herself, but for the children they might one day have, should the gods bless them.

She had long believed she had resigned herself to marrying a man as violent as her father. But now, standing before Aemond as he calmly recounted the brutal fate of a Lord foolish enough to challenge him, she questioned whether she could truly be at peace with such a union. Was she really prepared to bind her life to a man whose ruthlessness was so stark, so unflinching?

With a sigh, she pushed those troubling thoughts aside, forcing herself to focus on the present and leaving the future in the hands of the gods. Unlike before, his touch now stirred an unspoken discomfort in her, though she concealed it well. "Is it wrong for me to worry about my future husband?" she asked, her brown eyes falling onto his wound. Her hand reached out instinctively, tracing the air near the scar without actually making contact. "Have you called for Maester Orwyle? Or would you prefer I tend to it?"

Though she was no Maester, her skill in healing was undeniable—Aemond had witnessed it firsthand when she had cared for his niece just weeks before.

[abhorsenslives]

Cont from here @steel-and-fire

"It holds great meaning, for both me and my son," she said, offering a tired, weary smile. "I want to commission a dagger for him—something that will keep him safe." Her voice heavy with worry.

"There are powerful forces closing in on us, and I need to know he has a way to defend himself when I'm not there to protect him."

[abhorsenslives]

// new job is taking up all my free time

This weekend I promise to complete Agnes', Angelica's and Morgan's profiles!

But they are already up for plots and such

[abhorsenslives]

"Excuse me madam. Where can I find the town apothecary?" (Agnes)

“Our apothecary passed away recently, leaving his young apprentice struggling to take on the role alone.” Agnes explained, her voice carrying sympathy. She knew all too well how overwhelmed the poor lad was.

“Is there something you need?” she offered gently. “I might be able to help, depending on what it is.” Ida had been teaching her a few things in secret, after all—and wasn’t it true that sometimes a woman needed to rely on another’s help?

[abhorsenslives]

"I could never be angry with you." For Agnes

From this meme: Accepting

"Then please, tell me what’s going on." Agnes' voice was calm, but laced with a quiet insistence. "It feels like you’ve been avoiding me, and you're not exactly subtle with your anger." They weren't married yet, but after their agreement in the Godswood, she thought she could count on Aemond's honesty—that he would be as open with her as he had been that day.

Gently, she placed a hand on his face, guiding him to meet her gaze, giving him little choice but to look directly into her eyes. "We’re in this together, aren’t we?" Her tone softened, searching for reassurance that she hadn’t misunderstood their pact. "If you tell me what’s been bothering you, maybe I can help."

It wasn’t about proving herself to him or showing she was capable. Quite the opposite—Agnes only wanted to lighten the load her future husband had been carrying alone for so long.

[abhorsenslives]

His genuine offer of help caught her off guard. She was so accustomed to people overlooking her pain or ignoring her entirely until she was useful that this moment of sympathy startled her. It showed in her brown eyes, briefly widening before she masked her surprise.

"Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind if the need arises," she replied, quickly composing herself, her tone shifting to a more measured, neutral one. Her gaze followed his hands as he sketched, watching as his mind translated ideas into lines and shapes with practiced ease. His focus was captivating.

“A hundred pieces sounds fair,” she agreed, nodding. "My late husband provided well for us, ensuring I could raise our child comfortably. And if this turns out as exceptional as the praises of your work promised, it’ll last my son’s lifetime—and perhaps his children’s too, someday. A family heirloom.” The thought of a legacy for her son brought a faint smile to her lips.

"I have a question: Could the dagger be infused with a protection spell?"

He waved his hand in a polite, dismissive way. It was good that she had realistic expectations of the situation, that was more than enough.

"Don't worry about the materials, I have everything I need. The cost is to cover the future replacements of what I'll use now.", he responded as he already got into thinking about the work. Interrupted as the woman introduced herself, and he offered embarrassed smile. Where were his manners?

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Agnes. And I am...sorry for your loss.", he gave a nod, his lips pursed. It must have not been easy on her. He knows he can barely imagine himself in her shoes. She was doing the right things here, though, protection was important.

"I assume that you are in trouble to fear for your safety like this, but I will not press the matter or push into your personal issues. I'll just state that if you ever find yourself in a dire situation, I'll offer a helping hand without seeking reward. Keep it in mind if it ever comes up, there is no need for gratitude nor polite decline."

He then took a sheet, a piece of paper and a pen, and started drawing designs for the dagger.

"I am Ferenir Neskan, but you probably know that to come to me for the commission. Now, as I mentioned, I can make you any kind of dagger with varying prices, but since it is for your son, we don't need to go into too extremes." An adamantine or black iron dagger would offer nothing special to a child.

"I propose mithral, it makes the weapon lighter. Daggers aren't exactly heavy, but for a child, that difference can save a life. It will allow me to make it slightly longer too without sacrificing weight....

That would go around a hundred gold pieces. If that's too much, we can move to more traditional metals."

[abhorsenslives]

"It is his duty to care for your family, so it’s not surprising that he worries whenever any of you are injured. Even a seemingly minor cut, if the blade is poisoned, could still prove deadly." Agnes’ words hinted at an understanding that seemed unusual for someone of her status. Why would a noble lady like Agnes Alder think of poisoned blades? Perhaps the war had hardened her, as her father, Johan, often shared every grim detail of the battles and betrayals he witnessed. Yet, despite her exposure to such brutal realities, Agnes had never been allowed to directly engage in those discussions or influence their course. Johan, no matter how ruthless a father he was, would never permit harm to come to his family.

Her gaze drifted toward the storm outside, where heavy raindrops lashed against the tall windows. The hour was late, and she knew her father would soon begin asking about her whereabouts. He despised not having full control over his family, especially now that he had secured her future with the Prince Regent. Though he was delighted by the arrangement, he would not be pleased to hear of how much time she and Aemond spent alone together. Any hint of impropriety could stain her reputation, something Johan would not tolerate.

"I must go for now," she said quietly. "I need to fetch the materials I need from my chambers..." Agnes had already crafted the lie she would tell her father, a half-truth to satisfy his questions. Once he was appeased, she would return to Aemond’s side, just as she intended.

At his praise to her gift to healing others, she gave a halfhearted laugh."My skills pale in comparison to Ida's. She’s Alexander’s wet nurse, and the one who taught me everything I know." For a fleeting moment, her voice carried a note of sorrow, as if mourning something lost. She withdrew her hand as Aemond drew closer, just in time to see him reach out to gently brush a strand of her hair back into place.

It wasn’t that Agnes didn’t want to believe him. His blue eye held a certain honesty, and for brief moments, it almost convinced her that he was not the heartless man others saw, but someone who would do anything to protect his house. They shared that trait, she realized—perhaps she simply hadn’t been faced with the kind of choices he had. Perhaps, when her time came, she would make the same decisions, if not worse.

An impulse stirred within her: the urge to take his hand, to lean into his touch. The longer she spent in his presence, the more drawn to him she became. It should have been comforting, a reason to feel secure in their impending marriage, but instead, it unsettled her. "I believe in reciprocity," she said softly. "I give what I am given. You have treated me with respect so far, and so you have mine." And she knew that the more Aemond shed the armor of his cold facade, revealing the man beneath, the closer he would draw her to him.

A loud crack of thunder shattered the moment, startling her. She instinctively stepped back, increasing the distance between them. "It’s late, and I may be gone for a while. But if you’re willing to wait, I’ll return tonight to tend to your wound." It was his choice whether to have her by his side again in a few moments or to wait until morning. "But I'll understand if you’re exhausted and wish to rest. I don’t intend to impose myself on you."

" It is only natural for you to worry, " he began softly, his voice carrying both reassurance and an underlying strength. " In these times, caution is a luxury few can afford, yet concern is a gift freely given. "

His gaze drifted to her outstretched hand, hovering just above the wound on his forearm, a thin line where the blade had kissed his skin during the earlier skirmish. Blood had dried around the edges, a dark contrast against his pale complexion. He made no move to pull away; instead, he seemed almost intrigued by her hesitation.

" Maester Orwyle frets over every scrape as though the realm hangs in the balance, " he remarked with a faint smirk. " But his remedies lack a certain...personal touch. "

The air in the chamber thickened as he stepped closer, the soft rustle of his black tunic mingling with the faint whisper of her breath. The stone walls, adorned with ancient tapestries and iron sconces, seemed to absorb the weight of his words, holding onto the moment as though it were fragile. Outside, the wind howled through the battlements, its eerie song weaving through the castle's corridors like a reminder of the wild, untamed world beyond.

" Your skills in healing are known to me, " he continued, a flicker of genuine admiration in his tone. " I have not forgotten how you tended to my niece. Your hands brought her comfort when others could not. "

He raised his arm, the gesture almost ceremonial, an offering of trust. The scent of leather and dragonfire clung to him, carrying with it the echoes of battle and the weight of his lineage. " If it eases your mind, I would prefer your care over that of any maester. "

A delicate pause hung between them, the room falling into a stillness that was anything but empty. Instead of shadows, the shifting light caught in the polished surfaces, armour, goblets, the gold detailing on the carved wooden furniture, casting soft reflections, subtle glimmers of light that wove into the heavy atmosphere like a thread of uncertainty.

" As for the path I walk, " he continued, his tone darker now, more reflective. " The responsibilities I bear are not gentle ones. The realm is fraught with treachery and dissent. Strength is the only language understood by all. "

His words settled in the space between them, weighty and inevitable, like the fates that had led them both here. He searched her eyes, a fleeting vulnerability breaking through his hardened facade. " I do what is necessary to protect our future, to ensure the legacy of our houses endures. It is a burden I do not take lightly. "

Reaching out, he brushed a loose strand of her dark hair behind her ear, his touch betraying an intimacy he rarely allowed himself. " I would never wish for fear to dwell in your heart because of me. Trust that my actions, harsh as they may seem, are driven by duty. "

The wind outside battered the heavy shutters, a gust shaking the windows in their frames. It was as though the storm mirrored the tumult of their conversation, the intensity of the elements a reflection of the hidden turmoil beneath Aemond's calm exterior.

" Perhaps, in time, " he added, his voice softening. " You will see that beneath the armour and the titles lies a man who seeks not only to command respect but also to earn yours. "

He withdrew his hand slowly, his presence lingering around her like the slow burn of a distant flame. The flicker of vulnerability he'd revealed left an indelible mark on the air between them, one that neither the storm nor the cold stone walls could dispel.

" Now, " he said, his lips curving slightly into a smile. " Shall we see to this wound? In your care, even the deepest cuts seem to mend more swiftly. "

Though his words were calm, a current of something deeper, perhaps trust, perhaps an unspoken plea for understanding, ran beneath them. The unyielding walls of the castle seemed to close in just a little, as if even they were listening, knowing that their shared future held both promise and peril.

[abhorsenslives]

"I understand. I wasn’t expecting this to come without a cost. Money won’t be an issue—just name your price, and I’ll pay it. If there are specific materials you need for the forging, I’ll do everything I can to provide them."

Despite the seriousness in her voice, a part of her worries eased. The crushing weight that had settled on her shoulders felt a little lighter now.

"My apologies, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Agnes Alder. My husband passed away recently, and now I fear for my child’s safety."

Cont from here @steel-and-fire

"It holds great meaning, for both me and my son," she said, offering a tired, weary smile. "I want to commission a dagger for him—something that will keep him safe." Her voice heavy with worry.

"There are powerful forces closing in on us, and I need to know he has a way to defend himself when I'm not there to protect him."