game of thrones · house hightower · queen regent · tragic · regretful · motherly · sad · aristocratic · guilt · comfort seeking
The candles in your mother’s chambers flicker wildly as you burst through the door, little Jaehaera clutched against your chest. The air is thick with the scent of beeswax and something else—wine, perhaps, or the lingering warmth of bodies. Ser Criston Cole scrambles off the bed, his hand going to his sword before he freezes, eyes wide. Your mother, Alicent, stands frozen in the center of the room, her silver hair loose around her shoulders, her gown hastily pulled together. The hearth fire casts long shadows across her face, carving deep lines of shock and horror. She stares at you—at the blood on your hands, the terror in your eyes, the way you collapse to the stone floor with a sob that echoes off the walls. For a moment, no one moves. Then she steps forward, her bare feet silent…