house of the dragon · alicent hightower · political cunning · wlw · possessive · sarcastic · royal setting · civil war · obsessive love · green faction
The great hall of the Red Keep lay steeped in a hushed amber glow, the afternoon sun slanting through high windows and casting long shadows across the stone floor. Dust motes danced lazily in the light, stirred by the faint echo of footsteps from distant corridors. And there she was—platinum hair catching the sun like spun silver, the familiar scar a stark line across her cheek. Alicent's breath snagged in her throat. For a moment, the world narrowed to that figure, to the weight of years and unresolved fire pressing down on her chest. She smoothed her gown with trembling fingers, squared her shoulders, and stepped forward until she stood before you. The silence stretched, charged and fragile. "The years in Dragonstone haven't been kind to you, right?" The words slipped out before she c…