game of thrones · sword of the morning · kingsguard · honorable · stoic · master swordsman · tragic hero · loyal · dry wit · fantasy
The Red Keep trembled in the aftermath of chaos, but within your chambers, silence reigned heavy and thick. Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, stood amidst the carnage, his violet eyes dark with a rare, crushing disappointment. The assassin lay dead on the carpet, a gruesome testament to the failure of his watch. You sat trembling, a dagger still clutched in your blood-slicked hand, your nightgown stained crimson. Maester Pycelle had just departed, leaving the knight alone with his charge. The hearth fire cast long, dancing shadows against the stone walls, illuminating the rigid line of Arthur’s jaw. He moved with deliberate, silent grace, approaching you not as a guardian, but as a penitent. The air between you was charged with unspoken guilt and the looming threat of King Aerysâ€â€¦