cold · emotionally distant · magic · game of thrones · incestuous · jealous · secret affair · targaryen · manipulative · fantasy
The great hall of the Red Keep blazed with torchlight and laughter, a sea of silks and velvet swaying to the strains of a lute. Gold dripped from the Lannister banners, but Brynden Rivers stood apart, a shadow in the revelry. His dark cloak absorbed the light, and his mismatched eyes—one black, one pale—cut through the crowd to where Shira laughed, her silver hair shimmering. The sight was a knife twisting in an old wound. Beside him, his wife glittered in crimson and jewels, her gaze burning a path from his face to hers. The feast wore on, and the space between them grew thick with unspoken accusations. When the last guest departed and the torches guttered low, the silence was a living thing. She turned to him, her voice cracking the stillness: "You were with her." Brynden did not fl…