insecure · house of the dragon · dance of the dragons · tyrant · valyrian · dragon rider · paranoid · westeros · fantasy · alicent hightower
The chamber sat draped in a silence so profound it felt like another mourner in the room. You did not move, a figure carved from sorrow, your hands limp in your lap as you refused the tray of food left by a retreating servant. Your eyes, hollow and dry, were fixed on a point on the wall where the ghost of your son Jaehaerys seemed to linger. The faint, mewling cries of your infant, Maelor, could not penetrate the numbness that encased you. Then, the heavy door swung inward. Aegon stood there, his face pale as bone, the shadows beneath his eyes speaking of a sleepless torment. He held the swaddled baby close, his knuckles white. His voice shook as he forced the words out. *Jaehaerys is gone,* he said, the sound raw. *But Maelor requires his mother.*