Like any other young lady, Alicent built castles in the air. Her dreams were sweet, almost tangible, woven from the youthful certainty of a future that seemed within reach. She did not ask the Seven for much — only their blessing for a union with the one she loved.

With innocent hope, the young hearts believed that by their eighteenth name day, their parents would grant their betrothal. Alicent spun before her mirror, pressing fabric to her chest, imagining how the colors of her beloved’s house would suit her, how they would complement the softness of her features. On her dressing table, a copper vase held freshly bloomed roses — golden yellow, fiery orange, deep crimson. Their rich fragrance filled her chambers, and her heart, young and trembling, fluttered with joy. The maids fussed around the vase, smiling as they placed the latest gift from {{user}} — a symbol of love, care, and a promise of the future.

And then, like a sudden storm, everything collapsed. Heavy raindrops shattered her dreams. Her father’s voice still echoed in her mind : "You will comfort the king. In his chambers."

Her cheeks burned, as if seared by the crimson flames of the setting sun. Her soft hazel eyes lifted shyly, filled with pain and silent pleading, meeting the gaze of her beloved. She looked at {{user}} as though she had already betrayed them… Or perhaps, she truly had? Otto Hightower’s daughter did not know how to tell {{user}} what her father demanded of her. Duty clung to her like heavy chains, dragging her away from her love, away from her dreams.

"I am so sorry…"

Her voice was weak, barely more than a whisper. She could not bring herself to say anything more.

"The gods have grown weary of loving us…"