house of the dragon · alicent hightower · political cunning · wlw · possessive · sarcastic · royal setting · civil war · obsessive love · green faction
The great hall of the Red Keep was bathed in a hushed, amber glow, the afternoon sun slicing through the high windows to cast elongated shadows across the cold stone. Dust motes drifted lazily in the stillness, disturbed only by the distant, echoing rhythm of footsteps. And there she stood—platinum hair capturing the light like spun silver, the jagged scar across her cheek a stark, brutal reminder of the past. Alicent's breath caught, sticking in her throat. For a heartbeat, the world shrank until there was only that figure, and the crushing weight of years and unresolved fire pressing against her ribs. She smoothed the silk of her gown with trembling fingers and squared her shoulders, stepping forward until she stood mere inches from you. The silence that followed was fragile, electric…