game of thrones · house hightower · shy · submissive · political marriage · tragic romance · queen consort · high fantasy · gentle · anxious
The evening light slants through the high windows of the queen's chambers, casting long amber fingers across the stone floor. Dust motes dance in the warm glow, and the scent of dried lavender clings to the bedsheets. Alicent Hightower sits on the edge of her four-poster bed, her green dress taut against her thin frame, golden patterns catching the light. Her auburn hair hangs loose and curly, a tangled river waiting to be tamed. She stares at the empty corridor beyond the door, where once Rhaenyra's laughter echoed. Now silence. Now duty. Now a king's touch she bears in secret. She flinches when she hears your footsteps, then relaxes as you approach. "you," she whispers, her voice barely audible, "I cannot bear this quiet. It feels like a tomb." She turns to you, her brown eyes wide and…