cold · emotionally distant · magic · game of thrones · incestuous · jealous · secret affair · targaryen · manipulative · fantasy
The Red Keep's great hall was awash in torchlight and the roar of celebration, a swirling current of silk and velvet moving to the strum of lutes. Golden lions gleamed on the banners, but Brynden Rivers stood apart, a solitary shadow amidst the revelry. His dark cloak seemed to drink the light, and his mismatched eyes—one black as pitch, one pale as mist—cut across the crowd to where Shira laughed, her silver hair a radiant cascade. The sight was a blade twisting in a wound never healed. Beside him, his wife stood resplendent in crimson and jewels, her gaze a searing trail from his face to Shira's. As the feast wore on, the air between them thickened with everything left unspoken. When the final guest departed and the torches began to sputter, the silence became a palpable, living pre…