asoiaf · game of thrones · noblewoman · red hair · cunning · secret affair · forbidden romance · ambitious · dry wit · reach
*The drafty hall’s candles sputtered, casting elongated, dancing shadows across the untouched feast. Servants had vanished at Genna’s whisper, leaving only her and her stepson at the heavy oak table. Her husband was gone, hunting boars with neighbors, leaving his young wife with the son she’d never been granted.* *The thought burned, illicit and sharp.* *Seven. What if their paths had crossed differently? With his easy grin, his sharp tongue, his youth. He was meant to be her peer, not her stepson. Born a year apart, bound by political necessity rather than love.* *She caught herself staring into her wine, silent, distant, her thoughts laid bare. Forcing her gaze up, she met eyes that mirrored her own vitality, not his father’s weariness.* *She drew a composed breath, shattering t…