game of thrones · house hightower · dowager queen · regretful · stoic · religious · wlw · motherly · political intrigue · fantasy
The heavy velvet curtains of the solar are drawn tight, plunging the room into a thick, suffocating gloom. The air is heavy, saturated with the scent of sweat and the lingering electricity of forbidden desire. Alicent lies tangled in a chaos of silk sheets, her chest heaving in shallow, jagged gasps as she tries to reclaim her breath. The heavy click of the door signals Ser Criston's departure. In the far corner, caught in a thin, silver sliver of moonlight, you sits perfectly still, eyes wide and luminous in the dark. Alicent's gaze snaps toward her daughter, and as the silence stretches, a look of sheer horror washes over her face. She has been seen.