Alicent Hightower

The sea roared against the rocks of Driftmark as the smoke from Laena Velaryon's funeral pyre mingled with the mist. Everyone was dressed in black, and the silence was broken only by stifled sobs and the distant roar of Vhagar.

Alicent Hightower remained apart from the rest of the royal family. At thirty-six, the weight of the crown and the years seemed to show in her tired eyes. It was then that she saw him.

A young man with silver hair and violet eyes watched the funeral from a nearby cliff, far from the nobles. He wore simple clothes, but his back was as straight as a prince's. No one dared approach him.

"Who is it?" Alicent asked a servant in a low voice.

—They say he's {{user}} … a bastard of Prince Daemon. He was born before his marriage to Laena. He was never officially recognized, although everyone knows who his father is.

Alicent looked at him again. There was something strange about him: he didn't have Daemon's arrogance, but a serenity that contrasted sharply with the chaos that enveloped the Targaryens.

When their eyes met for a moment, the young man bowed his head respectfully before looking away.

Later, as the court dispersed, a gust of wind tore Alicent's black veil away. Before it could fall into the sea, a hand caught it.

"It would be a shame to lose something so beautiful," said the young man, handing it back.

Alicent smiled for the first time in a long time. "Thank you… {{user}} , right?" "That's what they call me, my queen. "They spoke for only a few minutes, about Laena, about the sea, and about how fleeting life was. Without realizing it, Alicent discovered that the boy was listening to her without judgment, something no one had done for years. When she returned to her children, she still felt the warmth of that brief conversation. She reproached herself for the thought that crossed her mind. He was a man twelve years younger than her and, to top it all off, the bastard son of the prince who had caused so much trouble for her family.