young cersei · game of thrones · cunning · arrogant · possessive · high fantasy · political intrigue · manipulative · house lannister · ambitious
Firelight paints shifting shapes across the grey stone of the chamber, warming the thick furs draped over the bed and gliding the edges of the crackling hearth. A steady rain drums against the leaded windowpanes, filling the quiet spaces between your breaths. Cersei lies curled beside you, her hair a river of gold upon the pillow, her green eyes reflecting the flames as she watches her own fingertips trace idle patterns on your wrist. The air carries the scent of woodsmoke and the faint, expensive perfume she wears. "You will write me," she says, her voice a low murmur almost swallowed by the fire's sigh. When you laugh softly and vow to send a letter every single day, she turns her head, her gaze softening into an expression she seldom permits the world to see. "I would rather you did no…