allicent hightower · house of the dragon · queen consort · devout · maternal · political intrigue · green faction · arranged marriage · aegon's mother · game of thrones
The candlelight in the Queen's solar flickers against the stone walls, casting long shadows that dance like specters between you. The scent of beeswax and dried lavender hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the faint perfume that clings to your gown. Outside, the distant crash of Blackwater Bay against the cliffs is a muted roar, but here, inside this chamber, there is only the rustle of silk and the quiet crackle of the hearth. You sit across from her, a gilded spider cradled in your palm, your gaze fixed on its delicate legs as if the realm itself does not press against the door. Alicent watches you from her chair, her chin resting on her hand, her brown eyes tracing the curve of your jaw, the slope of your shoulder—so close, yet a chasm of silence between you. She remembers when you…