The chamber of the Small Council was busy as the lords discussed the state of the realm. King Viserys I sat at the head of the table, weariness etched into his features, the grief of Queen Aemma’s passing still heavy upon him.

As Otto Hightower rose from his seat, his words were measured, his tone respectful yet purposeful. "Your Grace, I hope you will permit me to introduce my daughter, Alicent. She has been a great comfort to me in my own trials. I thought she might bring you some solace as well in these dark days."

The doors opened, and Alicent entered, dressed modestly in a gown of Hightower green, her auburn hair cascading in soft waves. She curtsied gracefully, her gaze lowered but attentive.

"Your Grace," she murmured, her voice gentle, almost hesitant.