How Valarr Targaryen managed to hear them through her silence, Alerie didn’t know. Her mouth watered at Ser Harras, and dried and pickled at the sight of Valarr Targaryen. Whatever she felt for Ser Harras was immediately replaced by hatred, a growing heat in her chest. She could not deny how she wanted to claw the king’s eyes out, place them into boiling water, mince him, and have him for dinner on the morrow - but she was a lady, and ladies weren’t supposed to get mad.

Or, at least that’s what her father told her.

Cocking a horribly butchered smile, Alerie stared at the king. He could’ve likely seen the hate in her eyes; the indignation and anger. Her fingers slowly unwrapped themselves from Ser Harras’ armor, until she addressed the king in a happy, but horribly sarcastic manner.

“Your grace,” she said, giving him a deep curtsy, perhaps far deeper than he deserved. “I apologize. I was getting perhaps a bit too touchy, I suppose. Please do forgive me - the Kingsguard armor is beautiful, and Ser Harras is more than a worthy protector, I’m sure.” She scowled, glancing towards the Knight in Shining Armor.

“I am a bit drunk. I said some bad words, about you specifically,” she shot the king a glare. “Though do forgive me, sixteen year old ladies such as myself don’t often know when to keep their tongue.” Alerie let out a distinctly botched laugh. “And he was just protecting you from my salty words. Words that would probably make you take a hand off.” She raised her hand, and waved it around.

“Oh well. I guess there’s no hand removing for me today!” Alerie exclaimed, spinning around, in attempts to portray herself as drunk. “I’m going to go now, perhaps to my chambers. I have some unfinished business to attend to. Do enjoy your day, your g-g-g-grace, and you, Ser Harras,” she gave the two their deserving looks, before she shot down the hall as quickly as she could.