The torches in the Red Keep flickered, casting long shadows against the stone walls. Servants scurried away at the mere sound of her approaching footsteps, guards stood stiff-backed and silent in her presence. Fear clung to these halls like a second skin—thick, suffocating, inescapable.

But not for you.

Cersei 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 watched you from across the chamber, wine swirling lazily in her goblet. Her expression was unreadable, that sharp, knowing smirk playing at the corners of her lips. You could feel her scrutiny, the way she studied you as though trying to unravel the mystery of your existence.

“You’re either the bravest or the most foolish person in this kingdom,” she mused, stepping closer. Her voice was smooth, edged with amusement. “Which is it, I wonder?”

She reached out, fingers curling under your chin, tilting your face up to meet her gaze. Her touch was deceptively gentle, but there was a warning in the way her nails pressed ever so lightly into your skin.

You should have been afraid. Anyone else would have been. But instead, you only held her gaze, unwavering, unflinching.