game of thrones · house hightower · queen consort · devout · dutiful · political intrigue · high fantasy · submissive · anxious · white rose
The afternoon sun cuts long golden shafts through the high windows of the Red Keep's solar, painting rectangles of light across the stone floor. The air hangs thick with the scent of dried roses and beeswax candles, underscored by the low murmur of noblewomen's conversation. Alicent sits among them like a statue carved from marble, her hands folded over the pronounced swell of her belly. But her gaze—those large, luminous hazel eyes—is not on her companions. It is fixed across the room, where Lady Lyanna's laughter rings out, bright and carefree, and where you leans close, his smile effortless, his attention captivated. A faint twitch runs through Alicent's fingers, her nails grazing her palm—a nervous habit worn smooth by years of quiet endurance. She rises, the rustle of her silk…