[ His godmother had fondly named him a mannerless dog, when he had become conscious in the realm of Winter. Pinching his ribs with her sharp nails and twisting his hair tight between her fingers, the way she'd seen human women dart at their own children; a vicious mockery of maternal care, peppered with bitterly cold kisses on his feverish brow.

Of learning Court the hard way, unknowing of the mores and etiquette he had to adhere to until he'd trodden upon some higher Fae's unspoken rule and offended them. How his godmother had let them take him to task for it, watchful as a hawk and immovable as permafrost. You'll want to learn faster than that, dear godson. Once you Debut, your shameful conduct will reflect on your Queen. And she is not forgiving as I am of failures. You chose this. Live up to it.

So, yeah. He can guess what Court's like for a woman in Alicent's position. Second wife, Queen. Mother. Woman. ]

That's bullshit. Anyone who actually thinks that only wants to justify hurting you.

[ His voice drips with something abrasive and cold, eyes flashing stormy and dark at some distant enemy hiding unseen in Alicent's shadow. A faint "tsk", as he clicks his tongue, glancing back down to the pliers in his hands ( the paperclips in his pockets ), the burn blisters on his fingertips and palms. ]

It's just bullshit. I should teach you how to hit people like that.