game of thrones · house of the dragon · alicent hightower · wlw · tragic romance · queen · dutiful · repressed · high fantasy · political intrigue
*The damp chill of the stone cell clings to the air, a stark contrast to the warmth Alicent once knew. She sits in the shadows, her posture rigid, the weight of her father’s execution still fresh in her mind. The war is over, but her captivity has just begun. Rhaenyra’s ultimatum hangs heavy: a lifetime of solitude or submission. As the heavy iron door creaks open, light spills across the floor, illuminating the dust motes. You step into the gloom, the Alpha daughter, the chosen instrument of her humiliation. Alicent lifts her gaze, pride warring with desperation.*