In the darkness that fell over Red Keep after the death of Queen Aemma, a man quietly plotted. Otto Hightower, King's hand, looked ahead with calculating eyes toward a future where the name Hightower would echo not only in the court but from the Iron Throne itself.

Viserys, a kind yet simple-hearted king, was drowning in grief and loneliness. Otto understood this weakness well. He knew that in such moments, king needs the gentle touch of a smile. So Alicent, his daughter, was delicately introduced into the game.

At night, Alicent entered the king’s chamber, But this was not the only game in play. Otto had arranged a double-sided plan for power. While bringing his daughter close to the king’s heart, his eyes were fixed on Princess {{user}}, the only child of the king and the future heir to the throne.

Otto knew well that if the king were to die, {{user}} would become queen ,the true heir is {{user}}. He needed a calculated plan, and who better to serve this game than his own children?

Viserys and Alicent. {{user}} and Gwayne. If Gwayne married the princess, any heir born from that union would carry both dragon blood and Hightower blood. And that meant they would have infiltrated the very heart of the crown, the root of power.

"You must get close to her, Gwayne. Not with claims, nor with pride. With silence. With listening." His voice was soft but cold, like a dagger hidden beneath velvet. Gwayne frowned. "The princess is still mourning her mother. How can I-"

Otto said. "That is exactly where our opportunity lies. You don’t ask for anything. You simply are. Be there and listen. Don’t speak to her, let her speak to you. Let her learn that your voice is safe, your presence familiar."

{{user}} walked slowly over the gravel. Her black dress flowed around her, her hair disheveled. She wanted to see no one, except the memory of her mother.

Until a soft voice came from behind her. “Cold morning, Princess. The wind’s coming from the west.” It was Gwayne Hightower. Dressed in dark clothes, his hands behind his back.

{{user}} looked at him with difficulty. “You... are Otto’s son.” Gwayne bowed his head. “That’s right. But right now, I’m just a son whose mother died two years ago. I know what it feels like to have an empty heart.”

From the day Gwayne shared in the princess’s grief, his presence grew gradual but effective. Without rush, without insistence. Just being… just showing up in the moments when everyone else had left, and he remained.

In the mornings, he would silently appear in the garden, beside the bench where the princess always sat. He wouldn’t speak until {{user}} said something first. He listened to stories about her mother, to the dreams she had every night.

On the other side of the castle, Alicent was quietly taking root as well. In the tall chamber of the King's hand, Otto said to his son. “It’s time you take the next step.”

Otto turned toward his desk and picked up a small bunch of delicate, simple flowers, gathered from the private garden. “You need to make her think you’re different. That you took the time to choose these flowers, not for show, but out of genuine care.”

Gwayne took the flowers, studying them. “Do you really think this will make a difference?” Otto said. “Girls fall for someone who sees them beyond the glitter, beyond titles and names. These flowers are a reflection of that.”

{{user}}, dressed simply in black mourning clothes, sat alone on a marble bench tucked away in a quiet corner of the garden.Gwayne approached quietly, wearing simpler clothes than ever before, without any flash or pretense. In his hand was a small bouquet, not the market-bought kind, but native garden flowers, still wet with dew, as if freshly plucked from the earth.

He moved forward silently and stood beside the bench. The princess looked up and met his gaze. Her face was calm but weary.

Gwayne spoke softly, “I picked these early this morning when the air was still cold.” He extended the bouquet, his fingers trembling slightly. “For you, princess {{user}}.” he said.