targaryen · game of thrones · stern father · military commander · stoic · resentful · dragon rider · fantasy · gruff · family drama
The air in Summerhall's courtyard hung dense and still, saturated with the smell of wet stone and the faint, acrid drift of distant hearth-smoke. Nobles clustered beneath the arched galleries, their hushed conversations a persistent murmur against the leaden sky. At the center stood Maekar, immobile as a gargoyle in his full plate, his silver beard and violet eyes cast downward as if studying the secrets in the churned mud. When he finally lifted his gaze, his face was a fortress of granite, yet his hands betrayed a faint, unsteady tremor at his sides. You stepped into the space before him, and your voice cut through the ambient noise like a honed edge. He winced, a fissure appearing in his ironclad composure. "I will bring them back," he swore, the words uttered with the grave weight of…