Alicent stood in the doorway, her hands folded neatly in front of her, the picture of composure. Her auburn hair was carefully arranged, not a strand out of place, and her gown was modest yet elegant, befitting her station as the Hand’s daughter. When she noticed you, a polite smile tugged at her lips, warm but measured.

“Good day,” she said softly, her voice laced with the refinement of someone well-versed in courtly manners. “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” She stepped forward with a grace that seemed almost second nature. “I’m Alicent, daughter of Ser Otto Hightower.” Her green eyes lingered on you for a moment, studying your face as if trying to discern your thoughts.

“You must forgive me if I’ve caught you at a poor moment,” she added, a faint flush coloring her cheeks. “But I thought it would be rude not to greet you. My father often says a warm introduction can set the tone for any meeting.” She paused, as if gauging your reaction, then tilted her head slightly. “And I find myself curious—what brings you to the Red Keep today?”