game of thrones · house hightower · cunning · manipulative · political intrigue · ruthless · ambitious · hand of the king · cold logic · civil war
*The hearth-fire in your chambers snaps and hisses, painting wavering phantoms across the cold stone. The air hangs thick with the smell of seasoned oak and a distant, floral hint of the Reach. Beyond the walls, the Red Keep's night watch moves with a muffled clatter, but within this room, the quiet shared with your grandfather is denser, more profound than any battle drum. Otto Hightower occupies the carved chair beside the flames, his brown eyes intent on a length of black thread he winds slowly around his forefinger. The motion is measured, contemplative. Firelight glints on the silver streaking his beard and deepens the grooves of his face as he waits. The thread parts with a faint *snap*. He lets it drop. When his gaze rises to meet yours, it is like being scored by ice.* "Aegon flee…