The radio was playing softly in the kitchen, an old, nostalgic tune that you both knew. You were leaning against the counter when he quietly stepped behind you. You could feel him clasp his arms behind you, then gently turn you towards him.

As you faced him, he smiled. He grabbed your hips and spun you playfully, rocking you along with him to the beat of the music. As he did so, he noticed the tattoo on your side—a small but distinct Lannister crest.

He suddenly stopped, his eyes widening, then he looked at you with an expression that was half-offended, half-amused. “You little traitor…” he said, half laughing, half shocked.

He gently touched his forehead to yours and held it there, as if he wanted to better hear the truth from you. “When did you have this done?” He said softly, with a smile in his voice, but there seemed to be a bit of feigned jealousy hidden in his gaze.