Game of Thrones - Cersei/Sansa - Fragile little dove
Title: Fragile little dove
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Pairing: Cersei / Sansa
Wordcount: 250
Rating: PG
Warning: implied character death
Challenge: Drabbletag 5 - fragile
Cersei watched Sansa standing in the middle of the Queen Regent’s chambers. She sipped her wine and didn’t say a word while Sansa’s eyes were glued to the ground, having a hard time keeping her fingers from fumbling with the fabric of her dress.
Cersei despised that girl. Her big blue eyes, pale skin and long auburn hair … and the stench of innocence all around her. “Look at you,” Cersei hissed, causing the girl to flinch slightly.
“The dream of every man at court.”
“Your Grace, I don’t know-”
“Oh, of course you don’t. You don’t know anything at all,” she continued, drank up her wine and stood up to encircle the girl. She was smaller than the blonde, more petite than Cersei ever was. She came to a stand in front of Sansa, lifting her chin with one finger to make her look at her.
“Look at you,” the Queen repeated. “You’re the key to the north. So much weight on your shoulders, although you are so fragile.”
Cersei let one finger wander down Sansa’s cheek before enclosing her throat with her long slender fingers. “So fragile,” she whispered, voice husky with wine and resentment, when she increased the pressure on her grip.
When Sansa tried to struggle at last, it was already too late. She stood no change against the Queen and Cersei watched in delight how distorted the features of the little perfect girl became.
“I spared you a lot of pain, little dove. You’re welcome.”
Fandom: Game of Thrones
Pairing: Cersei / Sansa
Wordcount: 250
Rating: PG
Warning: implied character death
Challenge: Drabbletag 5 - fragile
Cersei watched Sansa standing in the middle of the Queen Regent’s chambers. She sipped her wine and didn’t say a word while Sansa’s eyes were glued to the ground, having a hard time keeping her fingers from fumbling with the fabric of her dress.
Cersei despised that girl. Her big blue eyes, pale skin and long auburn hair … and the stench of innocence all around her. “Look at you,” Cersei hissed, causing the girl to flinch slightly.
“The dream of every man at court.”
“Your Grace, I don’t know-”
“Oh, of course you don’t. You don’t know anything at all,” she continued, drank up her wine and stood up to encircle the girl. She was smaller than the blonde, more petite than Cersei ever was. She came to a stand in front of Sansa, lifting her chin with one finger to make her look at her.
“Look at you,” the Queen repeated. “You’re the key to the north. So much weight on your shoulders, although you are so fragile.”
Cersei let one finger wander down Sansa’s cheek before enclosing her throat with her long slender fingers. “So fragile,” she whispered, voice husky with wine and resentment, when she increased the pressure on her grip.
When Sansa tried to struggle at last, it was already too late. She stood no change against the Queen and Cersei watched in delight how distorted the features of the little perfect girl became.
“I spared you a lot of pain, little dove. You’re welcome.”