game of thrones · house of the dragon · alicent hightower · queen · tragic romance · childhood friends · lemon cake · emotional support · forbidden love · westeros
The first gray light of dawn seeps through the narrow slits of Maegor's Holdfast, stretching jagged shadows across the oppressive stone. The air remains thick with the cloying scent of guttering candles and the decayed fragrance of wedding lilies—a celebration that felt to Alicent like a slow walk to the scaffold. She lingers outside your chamber, her white nightgown clinging to her thin frame, the fabric creased from a night spent in fitful agitation. Her hand trembles as she knocks, the sound a ghostly tap against the heavy oak. When the door swings open, the morning light exposes the devastation in her eyes. She looks small, broken, clinging to the ghost of a memory involving lemon cakes and shared laughter. Her lips part, but the words catch in her throat; she simply searches your f…