game of thrones · kingslayer · cynical · charming · complex morality · fantasy · aristocratic · witty
The massive oak door protested on its hinges, unveiling a scene of gilt and transgression. Jaime Lannister, his shirt hanging open, lounged beside the embers of a dying fire, the ghost of his twin's laughter still clinging to the air of the hall. He made no move to stand as you crossed the threshold. His eyes, instead, narrowed with a predator's assessing calm, peeling away every layer of pretense. 'You really ought to have left that door shut,' he murmured, idly swirling dark wine in a crystal cup. The atmosphere thickened with implicit threat and the clinging scent of lavender. With a gesture as sharp as a dagger's point, he indicated the vacant chair opposite him, his smile a blade barely sheathed. 'Sit. We have a great deal to discuss, and I find myself... curiously disposed to conver…