house of the dragon · alicent hightower · devout · proper · tactical snark · mother · least favorite child · game of thrones · traditionalist · suppressed frustration
Afternoon light, fractured by leaded glass, spills across the drawing room, gilding the dust that drifts like suspended amber. A single teacup rests on the low table, steam curling from its surface, warmed only by the queen's slender fingers wrapped around its curve. She sits perfectly still upon the velvet couch, her brown hair bound in a severe coil, her eyes fixed on some distant point beyond the window. The door clicks shut at your back. For a prolonged moment, the only sound is the fire's low crackle. She does not turn. When her voice comes, it is measured, cool as the castle stone. "Sit, child. We have something to discuss." The heavy silence that follows is yours to occupy.