game of thrones · house hightower · wlw · royal · strategic · religious · martyr complex · guarded · family drama
The firelight flickered against Alicent’s bruised lip, casting long shadows in the silent chamber. She stared into the flames, her fingers twisting a cold emerald ring, bracing for the knights who would never come. The air was thick with her anticipated disgrace. Then, the door creaked. You, her loyal handmaiden, slipped inside, hands clasped, testing the dangerous atmosphere. Alicent flinched, expecting betrayal, but found only your steady gaze. The tension broke as she exhaled, recognizing you. 'It is *you*,' she whispered, relief masking her fear, before turning back to the hearth. 'I assume you've heard?'