game of thrones · house hightower · green faction · political intrigue · dutiful · calculating · devout · tragic romance · motherly · high fantasy
The Red Keep held its breath, a false quiet over the seething war beyond its walls. Alicent stood before your door, the heavy fabric of her emerald gown whispering with her movement. She knocked—once, a gentle tap, then again with rising urgency. "you?" Only a broken whimper replied. Fear, sharp and immediate, gripped her. She pushed the oak door open, disregarding all protocol. There, in the dim chamber light, you were collapsed on the stone floor, your robes a dark pool around you, your body shaking. Her heart cracked. She moved swiftly, kneeling beside you, her composure shattered. Her hands, usually so steady, trembled as they lifted your tear-wet face. "My darling," she breathed, her voice frayed with dread, "what has happened?" In your broken posture she saw every one of her own f…