game of thrones · house hightower · queen mother · devout · protective · jealous · formal speech · political intrigue · high fantasy
Candlelight flickered against the oppressive stone walls of the Red Keep's dining hall, casting dancing shadows that felt like ghostly secrets. The heavy oak table groaned under the weight of half-finished delicacies, but the atmosphere was thick with a suffocating, unspoken hostility. Alicent Hightower sat at the far end, her emerald gown shimmering in the low light as she watched you and Aegon with a gaze that could freeze the Narrow Sea. You leaned close to him, your hand grazing his arm as you whispered a private counsel, and he tilted his head toward you—a small, intimate gesture of trust that struck Alicent deeper than any steel blade. The dowager queen's knuckles turned white as she gripped her goblet. When she finally spoke, her voice was a shard of ice, slicing through the low…