...It is evident from the moment that she enters the room and exchanges pleasantries with their Majesties that this visit is no mere family bonding time.  Her namedaughter is unaccountably tense and - weary.  ...Well, quite accountably tense and weary, but the woman who is merely her Great-Aunt, and not the director of Villarosan intelligence services, shouldn't know why, just yet, no matter the rumors of her preternatural knowingness.

"...Ah, and how fares my little princess?  I should hope you have not been independently developing some of your Great-Aunt's bad sleeping habits; one insomniac is quite enough for the family, I'd think."

"I'm quite well," she lies.  "I just must have gotten out of the wrong side of the bed this morning.  I'm sure you know how it is," she continues, forgetting that she's not supposed to be an adult right now and immediately cursing her slip of the tongue with a wince that she hopes is attributable to merely regretting seeming to have the presumption to say something like that at her age.  "...Ah.  Excuse me.  I did not mean to say that last bit, it was entirely inappropriate to presume so."  ...Her diction and bearing has sharpened to the knifepoint she imagines herself being held at for the implicit deception; there is a part of her that looks at this powerful and competent person and cannot help but fear some horrible consequence from upsetting her, even from a position of no small power herself.

"Did you have more dreams?" Queen Jethelia asks.  A moment later, she thinks that surely Alicia would've told them if so; a moment after that, she's no longer so sure that she does understand Alicia.

"Or any new... insights about the dreams you already had?"

(Or other reactions that aren't insights, but he's not going to be the one to bring that up if she hasn't.)

...Are they just up and telling her, is that what's happening here.  She vaguely expected more spy games than this.

"...No, mother, rest assured that if there was another series of prophetic revelations souring my sleep last night, I would have told you about them," she snaps back somewhat bitterly.  Then she, still looking at her mother, answers the question her father hadn't asked.  "...It's merely that - the weight of consequence upon me is ...heavy, and someone asked just the wrong question this morning."

...Oh dear.  This simply won't do.

"...Visions," she murmurs, "are rarely kind things.  One really needs proper support in their aftermath."  And if you believe your own daughter would not come to you for that support, Jethelia, you really must consider what that says about your parenting, she doesn't say.

Ambrose nods slowly.  "I'm sorry," he says to Alicia.  "If there's something you want to talk about - or if there's something you want to deal with by yourself first...?"

(Well, if she says yes, he is going to ask a few questions to make sure she's not going to "deal with it" by hurting anyone who doesn't deserve it.  With Alicia, he feels he'd need to check.)

After a moment, he holds out his arm for a hug if she wants - though she hardly ever has before.

...At least Ambrose knows how to support a child after a harrowing experience, she continues not saying to Jethelia.

"...I don't know what I'd say, if I did," is her response to the question.  "Just...The weight of several years' worth of responsibilities all came crashing down upon my shoulders in a single moment.  I'm sure I'll get used to it," she lies - again.  "...You all have."

...She'll be taking that hug, please.  Thanks, dad.

"...Trust me, dear, there is no-one upon this planet in a position of such responsibility as your father, mother, or I," she says, turning from Jethelia to Alicia, "who both understands their responsibilities and feels like they're adequate for the task.  Even I have my moments, despite pretending otherwise."

"...You?!  But you're practically the image of competence in the dictionary!"

"Despite pretending otherwise, I did say."  She takes a sip of her tea, and falls silent once again - she's thinking.

"Yes, your mother and I have our moments too.  But I just keep going ahead and doing the best I can."

"Or at least doing something in a good direction.  And if you don't announce this beyond the people you trust - then most of the time, everyone else will think you're perfectly suited to the role you're in."

She pauses and pinches her teacup.

"Which has its advantages.  Including when your enemies are thinking that."

"Oh, yes.  I can't say how many times my image has won a victory I'm not confident could have been won if it came to either diplomacy, or diplomacy by other means.  One must be...careful, that one does not buy in to one's own public face, however."

"...Yes, I can see how that could become a problem.

"Not least in the various Light-drunk crusaders that spill over the border at times..."

"Speaking of which - image - if nothing is immediately urgent..."

She glances at her husband, and then continues.

"I'm sure your visible change is gossip all over the palace if not the city already, but who knows the details so far about your dream?"

"...Yourselves, and Ciara.  Rill - the chambermaid - knows that I have had something happen, but I have not told her anything specific save that a vision occurred and in it bad things happened.  It would be nigh-impossible to conceal that much from her, anyway, and you may recall that she was present during the breakfast in which the subject of my having had a vision first came up; I believe there was one other member of the staff present that day.  I'd like to properly read in Great-Aunt Ophelia."

She frowns, not really trusting Ciara or Rill.

But before she can say anything, Ambrose says, "Of course Aunt Ophelia should know everything.  Do you want to explain first?"

...Ciara's one of hers.  Rill Kergove...Mm.  She wouldn't trust someone with such romantic notions of the way the world works with intelligence work, but she does know how to keep her mouth shut if the lack of rumors about her namedaughter's exploits before they come to pass is anything to go by.  Not to mention that Alicia is taking this particularly seriously.  And she's in mourning colors.  The Alicia she thought she'd be dealing with wouldn't have been so struck, she thinks.  Something must have really shaken her foundations.

"...Do I want to explain?  No.  But I probably should; I'm the primary source and there's inevitably going to be details that are salient to me that I nonetheless failed to add to the report."

"...It may be worthwhile," she concurs, "but there is no need for it to happen right now if it would be an undue burden.  Hold your peace, Alicia, darling.  Let His Majesty brief me; he offered."

...Oh thank all the gods, she really wasn't looking forward to being directly called out over her future past self's shit when she literally isn't even that person anymore.  Nor to having to go over everything that future past self did as if it was her own will.