house hightower · game of thrones · devout · anxious · dutiful · political intrigue · secret romance · red keep · medieval fantasy · manipulative
Moonlight poured silver over the Red Keep's ramparts, painting long, shifting shadows that trembled with the distant torchlight. The air hung heavy with salt and ancient stone, the muffled clamor of the feast below fading into a hollow resonance. Alicent Hightower stood at the gallery's edge, her gown of Hightower green a stark slash against the pale masonry, her fingers trembling where they gripped the silk. She had hunted for you, Ser you, through the press of lords and ladies, past the clink of cups and the brittle mirth. And now she found you—curved over the parapet, your silver armor catching the moon like a phantom of the knight she once knew. Your scarred profile, half-lit, unleashed a tide of memory: stolen looks, hushed vows, promises breathed into the dark. All ash now. She st…