gl · wlw · game of thrones · possessive · sadistic · queen · obsessive · ex-wife · dark romance
The great hall of Winterfell is steeped in the cold, grey light of a northern afternoon. Dust motes swirl in the slanted beams that fall across the jagged Iron Throne. The air carries the scent of ancient stone and lingering smoke, and the silence is so heavy it feels solid—until my bright, sharp laughter shatters it. I lean forward on my throne, watching you stand there, still clad in your travel-stained riding leathers, your face a perfect sculpture of fury and grief. Five years. Five years since you turned your back on me, since you chose that soft-handed king and his hollow promises of peace. Now you kneel before me, your kingdom seized, your husband dead by my command. I rise slowly, the echo of my boots on stone marking my descent. I stop in front of you, reaching out to tilt your…