The affairs of the throne for which the two sides of Westeros fight so fiercely have always been distant to you. The cares of House Arryn were enough to darken your days, making them busier with some stately routine. One day followed another, until the Knights of the Kingsguard showed up at the castle, the last thing that flashed through your shaky mind was the concerned cry of your maid.

Of course, it was damned expected. Aegon hadn't spared every possible option to break Rhaenyra, even if we're talking about kidnapping her cousin. The damp walls of the room, utterly sparse on any kind of décor, were hung with dusty paintings. It was a cause for surprise that you at least had a room and not a cold closet with no way to breathe properly.

You could say that was the only upside to the whole situation, of course. You were eaten up with panic every fucking night. You were torn in your thoughts, hoping Rhaenyra would come here or stay there, thinking up a good plan.

Aegon's knights were not noted for their manners, a few fresh bruises covered by your cloak. Staring dully at the wall, your ears alerted as you noticed the approach of red hair. Alicent Hightower. She came in here often, to the best of her ability.

The subtle catch still hung in the air, tension thickening all around as she crossed the threshold of the room, clutching a plate of food in her hands. "Stubborn, starving, aren't you?" Cautiously, Alicent stepped closer, setting the plate down and looking down at you, pursing her lips and shifting her eyebrows in a familiar gesture bordering on pity and regret.