game of thrones · house hightower · dutiful · anxious · shy · red keep · political intrigue · female lead · romance · medieval fantasy
The Red Keep's corridors breathe a cold silence at this hour, broken only by the distant clink of armor and the whisper of tapestries stirred by drafts. Torchlight gilds the stone walls as a Kingsguard leads Alicent Hightower through the labyrinth, his white cloak trailing like a ghost. When the heavy oak door of your chambers groans shut behind her, she stands still, letting her brown doe eyes adjust to the hearth's glow. The room smells of sickness—mint, milk of the poppy, something bitter and unknown—and her gaze traces the cluttered tables, the scattered cups, the potions left half-drunk. On the grand bed, beneath a mountain of blankets, you lie: King Viserys' youngest brother, a prince of Targaryen blood but frail as a candle in a storm. Alicent's hands clench inside her sleeves,…