Asoiaf: I Have a Wolverine Template

Chapter 19: Heating up

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Alicent POV

As I walked into Richard's solar, the scent of wine hit me immediately, thick and heavy in the air. My eyes landed on him, seated at his desk, surrounded by empty bottles of Arbor Gold. 

His golden hair was slightly disheveled, his eyes half-lidded with the glaze of too much drink. But then he smiled—one of those rare, warm smiles that made my heart race.

For a brief moment, hope surged within me. Could he be back to his old self?

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could say anything, Richard's head lolled forward, his chin resting on the table. His smile remained, but his eyes were unfocused, distant. I took a step closer, unsure of what to do, but before I could act, he lifted his head sluggishly and caught my gaze once again.

"Al… Alicent," he slurred, his voice thick and unsteady. He rose from his chair, but his steps were wobbly, his body swaying as he tried to make his way toward me.

"Richard…" I began, my heart sinking. He was drunk, this was the first time I had ever seen him drunk. This wasn't the Richard I knew.

Before he could take another step, Richard stumbled, his legs giving out beneath him as he crumpled to the floor with a heavy thud. My heart raced as I rushed to his side, kneeling beside him. My hands trembled as I tried to help him sit up.

"Come on," I whispered, tugging at his arm. "Let's get you to bed."

He didn't resist, but he wasn't much help either. His body felt like dead weight, and I struggled to guide him down the hall. Fortunately, a couple of the Lionheart girls I taught saw the state he was in and hurried over to help me.

Every few steps, he leaned too far one way or the other, nearly pulling us all down with him. I sighed, bracing myself against his weight. His eyes were barely open, lost in whatever haze had overtaken him. The girls exchanged worried glances, but neither spoke as we dragged him toward his room.

"Is he going to be all right?" one of them whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

I nodded, though the uncertainty gnawed at me. "He just needs rest," I said, hoping the words would make it true.

The girls helped me bring him to his room, then quietly closed the door, leaving me to guide Richard the rest of the way. 

When we reached the bed, I let him fall onto the mattress, the effort leaving me breathless. But before I could step back, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist firmly, and with surprising strength, he pulled me down beside him.

I lay frozen, his arm draped over me.

"Richard," I whispered, my voice soft, my heart hammering. We'd slept beside each other before, back in the slums when we were just two lost children. But this felt different. His hand rested on my back, his breathing deep and steady, the tension in his body melting away as he drifted into sleep.

I tried to move, but his arm tightened around me, like a protective barrier I couldn't slip past. Slowly, I stopped struggling and let myself relax into him, the warmth of his body seeping into mine. My heart still raced, a mix of emotions I couldn't untangle.

The steady rise and fall of his chest, the soft sound of his breathing, soon lulled me into a drowsy haze. With my ear pressed to his chest, I could hear his heartbeat, slow and rhythmic. It was like a melody, soothing me in a way nothing else could.

The world outside, the smell of wine, and the uncertainty—all of it faded away as I succumbed to the exhaustion that had been weighing on me for days.

When I awoke the next morning, sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. I blinked groggily, trying to shake off the sleep that clung to me. The first thing I noticed was that I was alone—Richard was nowhere to be found. The bed beside me, where his warmth had been, was now cool and empty.

There was a blanket over me. He must've put it on before he left.

For a moment, I lay there, staring at the space where he had been, my mind racing. Had he left on his own, slipping away into the early morning without a word? Had he gone back to Casterly Rock? A sense of loss tugged at my chest, mingled with the lingering warmth of the night before.

I thought back to last night. As much as I enjoyed sleeping beside Richard again, there was a longing for more—a conversation, time spent together, like we used to. But because of his drunkenness, that chance slipped through my fingers. I clenched my fist, frustration bubbling inside me. An opportunity lost.

Now, the weight of disappointment pressed down on me. Would I ever get a moment where he was truly present? Where he wasn't consumed by his mission or burdened by the world he was building? The thought left me feeling hollow. Would I ever get another chance to reach him, to talk like we used to?

I sighed, sinking deeper into my own thoughts, wondering if that moment would ever come.

After a while in thought, I sat up, pulling the blanket around my shoulders, and glanced toward the closed door. 

As my thoughts swirled, I felt the crisp morning breeze brushing against my skin, carrying with it the scent of the sea. My gaze drifted to the window, and there, sitting on the sill, was a letter weighed down by a bottle of Arbor Gold to keep it from blowing away.

I quickly rose, walking to the window, my pulse quickening. The wine bottle felt cool in my hand as I moved it aside, placing it gently on the table. My fingers trembled slightly as I picked up the letter, turning it over.

The familiar handwriting sent a pang through my chest. It was Richard's.

*I'm sorry, Alicent, for last night. I'm also sorry for not being there for you. I promise when my mission is finished in Casterly Rock, I'll make it up to you. Your dearest friend, Richard.*

I read the words twice, letting them settle in. His apology, his promise—it was all there, and for the first time in a long while, I felt a glimmer of hope. My fingers gently tightened around the parchment as I pressed the letter close to my chest, holding it as if it could bridge the gap between us.

"Richard," I whispered to the quiet room, my heart lifting with the warmth of his words. Though there was still so much left unsaid, his letter reminded me that he hadn't forgotten. 

Maybe, just maybe, we could go back to how it was when our attention was only on eachother.

…

Richard POV

It was early morning, the sky still cloaked in darkness as the sun had yet to rise. I stood in my room at Casterly Rock, having just returned from Lannisport. 

After writing the letter to Alicent and gently placing a blanket over her. I'd made my way back to casterly rock and made the long climb up the fortress, slipping into my room unnoticed. 

I was sober now, but a question gnawed at me—how had I become drunk in the first place? I had drank before, but it had never affected me like this.

My Wolverine template and my healing factor should've countered the effects of alcohol. 

Something was different, something I couldn't explain. My body was supposed to heal, to purge the effects of the wine before they had a chance to take hold. 

And yet, last night, I had been drunk and vulnerable, more human than I'd felt in a while.

I looked at my hand; it was shaking, trembling uncontrollably, and my skin felt flushed, as if heat was radiating from deep within my bones. The sensation was unsettling, a gnawing discomfort that grew with each passing moment.

With every breath, I felt that heat intensify.

The heat had been increasing little by little, intensifying to the point where it was making me feel restless and anxious. I needed to check if something was wrong with my Adamantium bones.

"Ssssssss," I hissed, gritting my teeth as I clenched my fist and pushed my claws out. The sensation was sharp, but this time it burned like a hot knife cutting through skin. My bones and muscles felt as though they were on fire, an intense heat radiating from deep inside me, unlike anything I had felt before.

Then, suddenly, it happened.

A glowing red light began to pulse from my knuckles, and moments later, the familiar sound of my claws extending was accompanied by something I had never seen before. My Adamantium claws, usually cold and sharp, were now glowing red-hot, as though they were burning from within.

"What the—"

I could barely form the words, the sight too overwhelming. My claws, the metal that had been a part of me for a while, were now behaving in a way that defied reason. It was searing, intense, and unnatural. 

The glow grew brighter, casting flickering shadows on the walls of the room. I could feel the heat radiating from the claws, the metal burning with a fierce, angry energy.

I clenched my teeth, trying to control it, but it was only heating up even more. The heat surged, making me stumble backward, knocking over a chair in the process. Sweat dripped down my forehead, and my muscles tensed as if my entire body was reacting to this burning sensation.

I staggered to the window, trying to get some air, but the heat was unbearable, suffocating. My breathing quickened, my heart racing. For the first time, I felt powerless against the Adamantium that had been a part of me.

I walked over to the water bucket near my bed, my steps quick. Leaning over, I stared at my reflection in the still water. My face was flushed, my eyes wide and wild. 

The glowing red of my claws, pulsing faintly in the dim light, seemed foreign, unnatural. It was as though my own body was turning against me.

I dipped the claws into the water, hoping the coolness would ease the heat, but the moment they touched, the water hissed, vapor rising in thin trails. The heat continued to radiate from within, relentless and unbearable.

I pulled my claws free from the water, droplets hissing as they fell away. My mind raced, desperate to understand what was happening. What was causing this? 

The searing pain continued to ripple through every bone, every muscle, as though my blood itself was burning. But my healing factor—stronger than I'd ever felt it before—was holding everything together.

I couldn't let it spiral out of control. Gritting my teeth, I focused, willing the heat to subside. The pain still gnawed at me, but I dug deep, trying to force the glow to fade, to cool the heat running rampant through me. Slowly, agonizingly, the red light began to dim. I could feel the fire in my bones flicker, but it didn't extinguish entirely.

After what felt like hours, I managed to retract the claws, their red glow fading as they cooled, but the heat still remained, a lingering warmth in my knuckles. 

The searing pain coursing through my body dulled, reduced to a manageable throb, yet far from gone. My hands looked normal now, healed as if nothing had happened, but beneath the surface, the heat simmered, relentless and unforgiving.

I stood there, panting, staring at my body, searching for answers in the lines of my skin, in the bones beneath. But the burning sensation persisted, the ache in my muscles refusing to fade. It felt as though something was building inside me, something that even my healing factor, working faster than ever, could barely contain.

My body was healing at a pace I hadn't experienced before, as though it was compensating for something beyond my control, fighting against whatever was wrong.

What the hell is happening to me? The thought echoed in my mind, unanswered, while the unbearable heat surged through me like an untamable fire.

…