Upon the death of her Lord Husband, Enora Hightower returned to the Red Keep. The eldest daughter of the Hand arrived just in time to attend the tourney in celebration of the predicted birth of the King's heir.
Female!OC x Viserys Targaryen
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Rhaenyra and Daemon had wed in the traditions of their house, they had cut their lips with dragon glass and painted sigils in their blood on the other's forehead. Enora had watched on confused as they sliced their palms and clasped their bloody hands together, drinking a goblet of wine mixed with droplets of their blood. She did not understand what was being said but she could see the love between the two in the way they looked at each other.
And while it wasn't in the way of the faith of the Seven, and Rhaenyra and Daemon were not wed in the eyes of her gods. There was a sense of beauty to the ceremony, in a macabre way.
Within a month Enora had seen some of the most important people to her off as they left King's Landing. Daemon and Rhaenyra traveled to Dragonstone wishing to be alone in their marital bliss. Alicent had asked for her sister's blessing to move to her husband's seat, stating that Lord Lyonel would not live forever and Harwin wished to establish roots at Harrenhal. After the birth of their son Titius, Unwin and Galene returned to Starpike.
Six years passed. Enora's children grew older, and her husband's illness grew worse everyday. Half of the King's face now hid behind a golden plate, molded to resemble his face. And though her husband now spent all day confined to his bed, rotting away as the illness took more and more of him, Enora's love never wavered. If she was not attending Small council meetings in her husband's absence, watching as Lyonel Strong governed the Seven Kingdoms, the Queen could be found at her husband's bedside spending time with her love. Every night she prayed to the Seven for one more day, just one more minute with her husband, and then she could let him go.
It was difficult for Enora, she remembered her first husband's death well. She had watched him burn from the inside as blisters formed on his skin. No remedy had worked, no cure was found as Lord Peake's body was ravaged by his mysterious illness. He forgot how to speak or move, only able to moan and groan in an effort to communicate. And when she looked in on him, Enora could see the fear and recognition in his eyes, he knew he was dying but he couldn't form the words, couldn't say goodbye. One night while Enora read to him she looked into his deep brown eyes and found a sadness and acceptance. The next morning Lord Peake was found dead, leaving Enora a widow and her children fatherless.
And now it was as if history was repeating itself. Enora briefly considered if she was cursed, if every man she loved was doomed to wither away and die. That is what filled Enora's mind as she sat at the head of the table as Lord Beesbury carried on about something. Attending small council meetings had become the Queen's least favorite task since her husband's health had begun failing. She dreaded listening to the Lords carrying on as if her world wasn't falling apart, as if her husband wasn't dying in his chambers across the castle.
It was lonesome in Viserys' old seat, Enora missed her husband's presence. She missed the small shared smiles as lords droned on, and the little taps of his boot against her foot when he would catch her daydreaming. She missed his booming laughter following some joke he had made, he always laughed more than anyone else at his silly comments. He would turn to look at her with a big smile waiting for her laughter to join in with the others, it didn't matter if the joke wasn't to her taste. Just seeing Viserys' eyes light up as she chuckled with him was worth it.
