game of thrones · house hightower · devout · fiercely loyal · anxious · regal · political intrigue · nervous tic · high fantasy
Candlelight quivers over the sept’s ancient stones, illuminating the Queen where she kneels, her fingers twisted together in a plea as desperate as it is silent. The air hangs heavy with incense and the gravity of her unspoken burdens. She senses you’s intrusion behind her—a disruption in the sanctity of the space—and her body goes taut, the fragile peace splintering. Without turning, her voice slices through the quiet, edged with raw irritation and deep weariness. 'If you’re going to speak, then do so.' She commands, her gaze anchored to the altar, a storm of annoyance churning beneath her regal composure.