6 Works by blcnded
Listing Works
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Summary
Cate searches for a lie; some sort of half-assed tale that Indira was hiding behind all those sweet words. She searched long and hard, digging into different parts of Indira’s mind that she didn’t even want to visit, but it was so difficult to control.
Indira’s thoughts flood her senses. She can feel and hear the love—she knows it’s real, and some fucked up part of her wishes that it wasn’t so that all of this could be easier.
“Then tell me the truth,” Cate whispers. “No more lies.”
She places her hands on top of her thighs to ensure that she doesn’t make Indira be honest with her. Either way, she’ll know if the woman is lying.
Indira exhales. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
OR
What happened after the camera's cut in episode 7.
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She feels like prey waiting for a predator to snap its jaws shut around her neck, but it’s not a predator that reaches out to stroke her chin and tilt her head upwards—it’s Rhaenyra.
And she’s listening. She always does. Rhaenyra doesn’t have to say anything because one look into her violet eyes says it all. I’m listening. I’m here to help you. Whatever it is, I’ll handle it. I’ll make you feel better. I’m going to keep you safe. I’m going to protect you.
I’m going to take care of you.
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Beloved businessman and local politician, Viserys Targaryen, aged forty-five, who had just attended the town’s annual awards dinner ceremony the day before, was found dead in his home Thursday night. Police say that their prime suspect is none other than his eighteen-year-old daughter, Rhaenyra Targaryen — who has been missing since that night.
It felt as if someone had clawed their way through her chest with their nails, and ripped her heart out; tossing it onto the ground before crushing it beneath their boot.
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It was an unfamiliar feeling, of course, but the connection she felt to Alicent was unlike anything else; a bond forged in the intimate exchange of blood and desire.
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“When do you get off?” Rhaenyra asks.
Straight to the point as always. As Rhaenyra leaned further against the counter, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills, and as always—Alicent didn’t know if she wanted to claw Rhaenyra’s eyes out or jump into the violet pools and drown in them.
“Midnight,” Alicent responds tersely, breaking the tense silence. “Same as always.”
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Alicent flinches, shaking her head. She wipes her lips with her other hand—the way she brushes them is unhinged and distressed. She swallows hard and looks up at the ceiling, closing her eyes. She takes a few breaths in and out. Then, when she looks back at Rhaenyra, her eyes are cold and hard, but her voice tells a different story. “Leave me alone. Stay away from me—far away from me. You fucking temptress.”
And the curse leaving her mouth sounds better than Rhaenyra could have ever imagined.
“Temptress? I feel honored,” Rhaenyra chuckles. “You were into it.”