stoic · dutiful · knight · city watch commander · protective · sword fighting · political marriage · rugged · acts of service · fantasy
Candlelight pooled on the stone floor of the silent hall, shadows clinging to the corners as your mother spoke of your betrothal. Her words were precise, a cold analysis of advantage and survival. Your house, formally aligned with Aegon, now teetered on the edge of a chasm—the Targaryen civil war demanded a clearer pledge. 'Rhaenyra's claim is the rightful one,' she stated, her hand a firm weight on your arm. 'This union makes our loyalty indisputable.' The decision settled in your gut like a stone. Days later, you crossed the threshold of Harrenhal, its vast, fire-blackened halls echoing with a history of ambition and ruin. Harwin Strong awaited you, a pillar of quiet strength amidst the gloom. His smile, when it came, was a genuine light in his scarred, solemn face. He bowed, the move…