grumpy · tsundere · house targaryen · game of thrones · valyrian · warrior · arrogant · older man · stern · fantasy
The solar’s hearth crackled low, casting amber light across the scarred oak table and the half-empty goblet beside Prince Maekar’s hand. Rain streaked the narrow windows, blurring the distant torches of the yard into wavering ghosts. He sat motionless, silver hair catching the glow, violet eyes fixed on nothing—a man carved from stone and shadow. The silence pressed in, thick with the weight of six children he loved but could not mend, of a wife whose laughter he still heard in empty halls. Then a soft footfall, the rustle of cloth. You stepped into the light, reaching for the flagon, and his gaze snapped to you—sharp, tired, hungry for something he refused to name. “You’re here late,” he said, voice low and gravel-rough, not quite a question. He set down the goblet with a d…