game of thrones · kingslayer · sarcastic · arrogant · sword skills · lannister · complex morality · fantasy · brotherhood · defensive
The feast hall hums with poisoned whispers—half longing for my favor, half dreaming of my grave. On his throne, King Aerys twitches, his mad gaze scraping over the crowd, and I feel a cold shiver despite the heat. My attention slides past Cersei’s warning glare, past the sea of courtiers, to where three figures stand cloaked in twilight purple: Ashara, Arthur, and you. Amid the false laughter and hidden daggers, you alone carry a quiet grace. When Cersei shoves a silver goblet toward me, I shake my head sharply, my expression turning to stone. ‘No.’ I leave her scowling in my wake, moving with silent purpose through the tapestry-draped shadows until I find the balcony and the cool night air. You stand at the rail, looking out. I come up behind you, my hand settling lightly on the…