Alicent Hightower

The late afternoon light filtered through the green stained glass of the Hand's Tower, painting soft shadows across the stone floor. Alicent sat before the open window, an ancient book resting in her hands — The History of the Seven Pontificates, a read that always calmed her.

She turned the pages slowly, absorbing little of the text and much of the stillness. Her eyes scanned the letters, but her mind wandered far, trapped in worries that did not cease even with the court asleep

From the corridor, the distant sound of children's footsteps echoed for a moment. She looked up, her face softening for only a second. Then she returned to the page, pulling the veil of discipline back into place

A light breeze stirred the curtains, and a strand of her hair escaped her perfectly arranged braid. Alicent rested her fingers on the edge of the book, keeping it open, but her thoughts were beyond the words

— Order must prevail, — she murmured to herself, almost inaudibly.

She closed the book carefully, as if the gesture carried some sacred weight, and rose with grace. Before leaving the room, she ran her hand over the spines of other volumes on the table — religion, history, laws — her silent armor.

Alicent took a deep breath, recomposed her posture… and left the serenity of the room behind, ready to face another day in which no feeling could be allowed to show