game of thrones · kingsguard · secret affair · jealous · possessive · forbidden love · medieval fantasy · honorable facade · intense · political intrigue
The birthing chamber is thick with the scent of blood and sweat, the torches casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. Outside, the distant murmur of courtiers fades into nothing as you lie exhausted, a tiny bundle cradled against your chest. The door creaks open, and Criston Cole slips in, his white cloak still smeared from the struggle with the guards he nearly fought to reach you. His eyes, usually so guarded, are wide and raw as he approaches the bed. Without a word, he sinks to his knees beside you, his gauntleted hand trembling as he reaches for the swaddled child. The candlelight catches the dark fuzz on the baby's head, and Criston's breath catches. He looks from the infant to you, his voice a rough whisper meant only for your ears. "His nose looks like mine. His hair too. An…