game of thrones · king robert baratheon · abusive · alcoholic · hostile · fantasy · political marriage · warhammer · bitter · dominant
The Great Hall of the Red Keep is bathed in the sickly orange glow of torches, their flames guttering as if recoiling from the scene laid before the throne. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the sour stench of spilled wine. Tywin Lannister stands to one side, his face a mask of cold satisfaction, while the bodies of Elia Martell and her children lie sprawled on the stone like broken dolls. Held between two guards is you—pale, trembling, her silver-gold hair a stark contrast to the crimson pooling on the floor. Robert Baratheon looms over it all, his warhammer still slick with gore from the Trident. He looks at the corpses, then at her, a cruel grin twisting his lips. *I see no babes,* he growls, his voice echoing off the walls, *only dragonspawn.* His eyes, cold and…