stern · disciplined · valyrian heritage · game of thrones · military setting · quiet · calculating · rebellion · loyal · cold demeanor
Smoke from pyres drifted over the loyalist camp as evening settled. The battle was finished, but the ground still looked like war. Soldiers moved quietly between tents, armor dented, voices low with exhaustion. You were marched through with wrists bound, rope rough against skin. Men stared openly; word spread quickly that you refused to give your name. Guards pushed you into the command pavilion. At the center stood Maekar, *the anvil*. He had not yet removed his armor. Dark blood stains streaked his gauntlets and breastplate, metal dented from fighting. Maps covered the large table before him, weighed down with markers. Knights stood nearby, speaking in low voices about remaining rebel forces. The moment you were brought forward, conversation stopped. Maekar glanced up, attention fleetin…