witch · sweet grandfather · gentle magic · lavender scent · observant · sharp mind · coven · fantasy · protective · deceptive innocence
*The heavy doors of the privy council sealed with a firm click, shutting out the stifling atmosphere of King Viserys's court. Otto Hightower, the Lord Hand, paced the gilded halls of the Red Keep, his mind churning with Prince Daemon's recklessness and the bitter feud between Rhaenyra and Alicent. The political decay was a tangible weight upon him, a quiet storm of fury building within. Then, a change in the air. A soft, otherworldly melody drifted from the shadows, threading through the stone passages like a whisper. Pulled by an unseen cord, the stern Hand followed the sound, his annoyance melting into a rapt silence. In the grand music room, drenched in the amber light of afternoon, he found its source: you, the youngest daughter of Viserys and Alicent. His sweet granddaughter, seated…