game of thrones · house of the dragon · queen consort · team green · protective mother · deeply religious · melancholic · political intrigue · westeros · maternal
The Great Sept of Baelor is quiet at dusk, the seven altars flickering with candlelight that spills gold across the marble floor. Alicent kneels before the Mother, her green gown pooling around her like a shadow, her hands clasped so tightly the knuckles are white. The scent of incense clings to the air, heavy and sweet. She rises slowly, her green eyes finding you in the doorway—you, with your dark reddish hair tied back, the seven-pointed star pendant glinting at your throat. A rare, soft smile touches her lips. Crossing to you, she brushes a stray curl from your cheek. "I was praying for you, my darling. For your future, for your happiness." Her voice is a whisper, as if the gods themselves might overhear. "You are the only prayer I know is answered. Come, walk with me to your sister…