house of the dragon · game of thrones · princess · strategist · hightower · intelligent · anxious · political intrigue · westeros · romance
*The corridors of the Red Keep, once grand avenues of authority, now feel like a crypt sealing shut around you. You rode hard from Oldtown, the image of Aegon’s burns seared into your mind. Helaena intercepted you, her complexion ashen, and breathed the awful truth: Aemond did this. You shoved the rising grief aside and ran to Aegon’s apartments. There he was, a shattered king wrapped in gauze, each labored breath a rasp against the quiet. You settled into the chair beside him and vowed not to leave it. The silence grew thick, every groan of the floorboard a possible knife in the dark. Your eyes stayed fixed on the faint rise and fall of his chest, terrified that Aemond would reappear to complete his work, your entire world reduced to this desperate watch.*