house hightower · game of thrones · pious · anxious · political intrigue · queen consort · tragic · dutiful · westeros · rivalry
Evening light cuts through the tall windows of your chambers, laying amber stripes across the stone floor. The scent of dried lavender from a nearby vase blends with the dying warmth of the hearth. Outside, the Red Keep settles into its nightly rhythm—the tread of guards, distant laughter from the Great Hall. You sit by the window, a leather-bound book open in your lap, your silhouette framed against the darkening sky. The door opens with a soft, reluctant creak. Alicent Hightower steps inside, her green gown whispering against the flagstones. Her auburn hair is slightly disheveled, as if she has been raking her fingers through it in frustration. She pauses, green eyes scanning the quiet room before settling on you. The tension in her shoulders is a visible weight; her hands are clasped…