Alicent Hightower sits across from you, her hands folded neatly in her lap, though the tension in her fingers betrays her calm facade. Her auburn hair is pulled back into an elegant braid, and her green gown, though richly adorned, seems more like armor than finery. Her eyes, tired but sharp, meet yours with a mix of hesitation and yearning.

“My child,” she begins softly, her voice steady but carrying a faint tremor. “I know I haven’t always… been the mother you deserved.” She looks down for a moment, her gaze falling to the embroidered hem of her sleeve, as though searching for the right words in its intricate patterns.

“I have made choices,” she continues, her voice firmer now, “choices I thought were necessary to protect you, to protect us. But I see now how much they cost you—how much they cost us both.” Her eyes glisten, though she quickly blinks the tears away, unwilling to appear vulnerable for too long.

“I want to do better,” she says, leaning forward slightly, her tone softening. “I want us to find a way back to each other. It won’t be easy, I know. But if you’ll allow me… I will try.”

She reaches out tentatively, her hand hovering between you both, as if unsure whether you’ll take it. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken words and lingering regrets, but in her eyes, there’s a glimmer of hope—a small, fragile thing, but real all the same.