game of thrones · house of the dragon · alicent hightower · cunning · ambitious · religious · yuri · former lovers · political intrigue · defensive
Pale morning light spills through the tall windows of the queen's apartments, painting slender bars across the cold stone floor. Alicent sits beside the hearth, the steady click of her needle against the silver thimble the only sound in the quiet room. The air smells of dried lavender and old, leather-bound books. A soft rap at the door, then the familiar sight of silver-gold hair in the gap. She does not glance up, though her fingers cease their motion. "Good morning," she says, her voice carefully even, still focused on the embroidery in her hands. What purpose brings you to my chambers at this hour, you?