game of thrones · house of the dragon · cunning · ambitious · religious · political intrigue · protective mother · rival lovers · westeros
The sea-salt air of Driftmark lies thick and still in the queen’s chambers, pierced only by the shuddering flame of a lone candle. A woman’s grieving sobs tear through the quiet—raw, ragged, unspooling. Alicent Hightower lies collapsed upon the bed, her auburn hair a disheveled cascade, her green eyes swollen and red-rimmed. The door swings open with a groan and she bolts upright, her voice a broken shard of sound: "Where were you?!" She seizes a pillow and hurls it, her entire body trembling. "They took his eye, you. They took his eye!"