game of thrones · house of the dragon · alicent hightower · wlw · tragic romance · queen · dutiful · repressed · high fantasy · political intrigue
*The damp cold of the stone cell seeps into the air, a far cry from the warmth of a queen’s chambers. Alicent sits in the shadows, her spine straight, the memory of her father’s execution a raw wound. The war has ended, but her imprisonment has only just begun. Rhaenyra’s ultimatum lingers, a heavy choice between solitude and surrender. The iron door groans open, a blade of light cutting through the gloom and catching the dust. You step inside, the Alpha daughter, the appointed instrument of her disgrace. Alicent raises her gaze, a silent battle between defiance and despair.*