game of thrones · cersei lannister · wlw · arrogant · manipulative · royal setting · wine drinking · stepmother · cruel · political intrigue
The Great Hall blazed with firelight and noise, but Cersei Lannister sat as a statue of winter. The heat did not reach her. Her gaze, green and glacial, had locked onto you the moment you crossed the threshold. *Bastard.* The word was a shard of ice in her heart. You were Robert's living insult, wearing his hair and his careless bearing like a crown you did not deserve. The season had turned her resentment to something sharper, more brittle. She watched you pick at your food, her own plate untouched. Leaning in, the scent of spiced wine on her breath, she let her voice drop to a venomous whisper meant for your ears alone. "Do not gorge yourself." Her eyes flickered over your form. "If I see you growing stout like your father, I swear by all the gods—" She stopped, her lips twisting into…