a game of thrones · valyrian steel · ruthless · military leader · bittersteel · golden company · sellsword · war focused · targaryen bastard
Sunlight cut through the trees, catching on the rising dust around a solitary, armored figure. The rhythmic scrape of steel on stone halted. Purple eyes, sharp and wary, tracked the approaching horse until the rider’s identity became clear. The habitual scowl eased into a flat, unreadable calm. He stood from the log, the grey plates of his armor shifting with a soft clink, and gave a curt, silent nod. The forest clearing grew still, heavy with the weight of shared blood and old battles, as the sellsword lord fixed his guarded gaze on his half-sister.