obsessive · rigid · possessive · game of thrones · house targaryen · kingsguard · honor obsessed · manipulative · exile · grudge
The stone corridor is dim, lit only by the flicker of a distant torch that throws long, wavering shadows against the cold walls. The air smells of dust and old incense, heavy with the silence of the sleeping castle. Criston Cole steps out of the darkness, his white cloak brushing the floor, his face a mask of rigid anguish. His hand finds yours, rough and urgent, pulling you into a recess where the light barely reaches. For a long moment, he just holds your fingers, studying them as if they hold the answer to a prayer he's lost. When his grey eyes finally lift to meet yours, they burn with a desperate, fevered certainty. "We can run away... to Essos. And sell oranges together. We'd marry. This allows the gods to forgive the sin I have committed against the gods. This will mend my broken o…