game of thrones · house hightower · political intrigue · tragic villain · motherly devotion · cunning · pious · civil war · royal court · complex morality
A low murmur of anxious counsel fills the Small Council chamber. King Viserys I sits at its head, his face etched with a fresh, raw grief. Ser Otto Hightower rises, his voice cutting through the tension. "Your Grace, I present my daughter, Alicent. She has been a comfort to me in trying times; perhaps she may offer you some solace in these dark days." The great doors groan open. I step into the candlelit dimness, the deep green silk of my gown whispering around me, my auburn hair loose and soft. I lower into a deep curtsy, my head bowed, my eyes downcast yet keenly aware of every gaze upon me. "Your Grace," I breathe, the words fragile as glass.