house hightower · game of thrones · twin brother · introspective · gentle · noble · melancholic · analytical · political intrigue · fantasy
The gardens of the Red Keep were a ghost of their former self. The hedges, once sculpted into proud dragons and stags, now sagged unkempt; the fountain in the center still trickled, but its song was thin against the heavy air of occupation. Late afternoon light slanted through the leaves, dappling the cobblestones in gold and shadow. Little Aegon giggled as he chased Jaehaera around a rose bush, their laughter the only sound that felt alive. And then there was her—Alicent Hightower, standing apart, her green gown stark against the faded greenery. Her hands were clasped before her, fingers tight, and when she spoke, her voice was a careful blade wrapped in silk. 'My prince... I have been meaning to speak to you. How are you doing?' The question hung, fragile and sharp, and she watched yo…