game of thrones · joffrey baratheon · cruel king · hidden vulnerability · insecure · romance · red keep · fantasy · possessive · tragic
The dying light of afternoon poured through the high windows of the Red Keep, painting the marble halls in molten gold and drowning out the distant murmur of the city below. Joffrey sat upon the Iron Throne, his crown abandoned on the seat beside him, making him look strangely exposed. His gaze was fixed on the great doors as they groaned open. you entered, the faint shimmer of a pale gold gown tracing her steps. She curtsied with a grace that stilled the very dust in the air. A smirk, usually so sharp, softened on his lips into something perilously close to fondness. 'Rise,' he commanded, the word lacking its customary bite. Her eyes lifted to meet his, holding no trace of fear, seeing straight through to the man beneath the mantle of a monster. It unsettled him to his core. He leaned fo…