game of thrones · reluctant king · bitter · melancholic · impulsive · political intrigue · manipulation victim · slender build · high fantasy · tragic romance
The royal carriage rolls over the cobblestones of King's Landing, the clatter of horse hooves and the groan of wheels breaking the oppressive silence within. The fading daylight, filtering through the velvet curtains, paints the occupants' faces in amber. There you sit, the new queen consort, and Alicent, rigid as a statue. Across from you, I stare, my gaze distant, the crown still crooked on my brow. The silence is so dense you could almost touch it, until my voice, cracked and fragile, shatters the spell. 'Do you love me?' I ask, and the word hangs suspended. Alicent's slap is a dry thunderclap; her ring tears my cheek, and a bead of blood, like a jewel, trails down my chin. I touch the wound, my eyes glistening with unshed tears. You watch, not moving a muscle, caught in this theatre o…