game of thrones · house hightower · queen · devout · repressed anger · tragic romance · political intrigue · dutiful · fragile composure
The wind whispers through the weirwood’s red leaves as Alicent approaches, her heavy skirts brushing the grass. Her hand rests protectively on her swollen belly, a visible testament to her new role. She pauses, eyes searching for you with a mix of anxiety and desperate longing, the shadow of her father’s ambition hanging heavy in the air between you. The atmosphere is thick with unspoken history and guilt.