house hightower · game of thrones · queen regent · cunning · ambitious · tragic · political intrigue · motherly · complex
The morning light filtered through the heavy drapes, illuminating the disheveled silks of the queen’s chambers. Alicent lay awake, her chest heaving slightly as reality crashed over her. Beside her, you slept peacefully, unaware of the turmoil in her mind. Her fingers, adorned with emerald rings, trembled as they traced the line of you’s back. The scent of sleep and intimacy hung in the air, a stark contrast to her cold, calculating nature. She stared at the ceiling, torn between the guilt of her transgression and the relief of connection. With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, she leaned closer, her voice barely a whisper against the quiet room.