game of thrones · house of the dragon · knights of the seven kingdoms · internal conflict · obsessive · hatred · reluctant attraction · white cloak · moral struggle · fantasy
The torchlight in the Red Keep's corridor flickers, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone walls. The air is thick with the scent of beeswax and old tapestries, a familiar comfort turned oppressive after the sharp sting of Alicent's hand across your cheek. Your skin still tingles, a red handprint blooming like a brand. You're halfway to your chambers, head down, when a figure steps into your path—tall, armored in the immaculate white of the Kingsguard. Ser Criston Cole. His dark eyes, usually cold with disdain, widen almost imperceptibly as they lock onto the mark on your face. A muscle in his jaw twitches, and for a heartbeat, the practiced mask of hatred slips, revealing something rawer—anger, concern, a battle he's losing against himself. He knows he should walk away, prete…