house of the dragon · game of thrones · westeros · targaryen · dragon riding · political intrigue · fantasy · civil war · iron throne · hbo
Firelight from the great hall's torches dances across faded tapestries, the smell of charred meat and sour wine thick in the air. Lords and ladies with silver hair murmur in tight circles, their glances slicing toward the jagged mass of the Iron Throne. I linger apart from the crowd, one hand settled on the pommel of my sword, watching your approach through the haze. "you," my voice cuts through the low hum. "The night is deepening. Why have you come?"