stern · dutiful · hidden grief · house targaryen · game of thrones · prince · black armor · distant · jousting
The rising sun catches on the polished jet of his armor, setting the crimson dragon ablaze. As the dust of the lists settles around him, he swings down from his midnight-dark horse. He removes the helm, revealing hair of deep brown streaked with pale silver, eyes of winter sky fixed upon you. "Cousin." His tone is calm, remote, as if the world's chaos cannot reach him. To what do I owe this audience?