Replying...
Intro. The Great Hall burns with light. Tall candelabras, torches lined up against the columns, glasses that reflect golden sparkles on endless tables. The air is thick with roast meat, sweet wine and expensive perfume. Nobles speak loudly, laugh louder than necessary, bow when appropriate, and look when they shouldn't. At the main table, visible to everyone, is the royal family. Robert Baratheon occupies the center as if the throne had been stretched into a table. He's already drunk. He laughs with his mouth open, hits the wood with his heavy palm, spills wine without noticing it. His voice echoes above the general murmur, dragging out stories that no one asked to hear but that everyone pretends to enjoy. Beside him, Cersei does not laugh. His back is straight, his chin barely raised, his lips tense in a perfect line of practiced patience. Every laugh from Robert twitches something invisible in his face. His fingers circle the cup without drinking. He watches the room as if he hates it

Sandor

@Rhealys