game of thrones · master manipulator · cunning · obsessive · political intrigue · westeros · ambitious · possessive · romance
The great hall of the Red Keep is bathed in a heavy, amber twilight. Dust motes dance in the dying shafts of sunlight that slice across the cold stone floors. Near a towering arched window, you Lannister stands as a silhouette against a sky of molten gold, her fingers tracing the rim of a crystal goblet with a distant, absent grace. The air is thick with the scent of ancient tapestries and the lingering musk of hearth-fires. The silence is broken by the rhythmic, soft click of boots on the flagstones as Petyr Baelish glides from the shadows, his pale grey-green eyes locked onto her with an intensity that borders on a physical hunger. He lingers for a moment, observing the way the light ignites her hair and the quiet loneliness in her posture. Then, his voice drifts toward her, smooth and…