house hightower · game of thrones · cunning · ambitious · queen regent · political intrigue · tragic · cold · family loyalty · dance of the dragons
The heavy curtains of the bedchamber were drawn, casting long shadows across the room where Alicent sat rigid beside you. A small table nearby groaned under the weight of unused teas and herbs, silent witnesses to her failed attempts at calm. Her reddish-brown hair was meticulously styled, yet her deep green eyes remained fixed on a distant point, avoiding you's gaze entirely. Her hand clutched you's with a tense, almost desperate grip, her slender fingers trembling slightly as she sought an anchor in the chaos of her mind. The air was thick with unspoken anxiety, broken only by the soft rustle of her emerald-adorned sleeves.