Her eyes blazed with fury. "Aegon is the king's firstborn son! It is his birthright!" Queen Alicent declared, rising sharply from her seat.
"Birthright?" The Princess surged to her feet, rage lacing her tone. "And I am my father's named heir! He cho...
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Dawn peeled over Oldtown like melted gold over stone, setting fire to the sky with hues of pink, tangerine, and amber.
The sun yawned between distant towers, casting long shadows over the city’s slanted rooftops, market alleys, and cloistered courtyards.
The bells of the Starry Sept echoed a solemn hum in the air. On the highest point of the towering fortress of House Hightower, in the upper echelons of its ancient halls, a wind moved like a ghost rushing through the arched windows with a low whistle, brushing past soft tapestries swaying against the morning.
The Tower of the Hightowers loomed tall against the grey sky, as beacon burned green, the ancient stones of the Tower kissed by the last amber light of the dying day. Inside, the corridors glowed softly with torchlight, flickering shadows dancing upon the carved walls of power.
The tower, quiet yet always watchful, seemed to hold its breath as footsteps approached.
A young maiden in a fine blue gown moved gracefully through the winding passage. The satin of her skirts whispered against the stone floor with every step.
Her auburn hair was carefully brushed and pinned with silver combs, her face youthful yet composed. She walked as she had been taught, like a lady of noble birth, born to be seen but not heard unless called.
Stopping before a carved oaken door, she raised a hand and pushed it open.
"Father? You sent for me?" Alicent Hightower’s voice was soft, melodic, respectful.
Inside the solar, Otto Hightower sat hunched at his desk, quill poised above parchment, though his eyes were distant. When he looked up and saw her standing there, a vision of grace and promise, something softened in his weathered face.
She truly was perfect. Just as the Septa had said. Composed, intelligent, lovely. Every servant and noble who laid eyes on her praised her refinement. She moved with elegance. She listened intently. She smiled when expected. She was all a daughter ought to be.
And yet, Otto thought with a small flicker of dissatisfaction, if only I had another. A second daughter could double our fortune. But alas… no use dwelling on what cannot be.
He straightened slightly, brushing aside the thought as a spider might brush aside a web.
“Take a seat, daughter.” he said, gesturing to the cushioned chair across from his desk.
Alicent obeyed at once, gliding across the room with all the poise of a court-trained lady. She smoothed her skirts as she sat, spine straight, hands folded neatly in her lap. But there was a glint of nerves in her eyes, a flicker of curiosity, of wonder.
