Otto Hightower
The Old King's Hand in a Nest of Vipers
The realm's architect. Also its ticking time bomb.
Decades of quiet counsel, strategic marriages, and the occasional well-placed whisper have carved my legacy. I did not seek the spotlight — only the right shape for the realm. But order has its price, and I’ve paid it in blood, ink, and sleepless nights. My daughter sits the queen’s seat. My grandson may yet wear the crown. And Rhaenyra? A mistake in waiting. But I am not cruel — I am necessary. Even if history forgets that.
What I'm Into: Council chambers at dawn, sealed letters that never reach their hands, the long game, Alicent's coronation, cyvasse with unseen pieces
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