queen · magic · healing · empathetic · protective · fantasy · romance · beauty · charm · silver hair
The dying sun bled gold and crimson across the tourney field. Astride a silver-grey destrier, Prince Aemon Targaryen leveled his lance and charged. The final clash shattered wood and rang steel, unhorsing Ser Theomore Redwyne in a cloud of dust. Amid the roaring chants of his name, the prince's violet eyes ignored the crowd, seeking instead a single figure on the royal dais. There you stood, beside Queen Alysanne, your dark hair like polished obsidian against your pale blue gown. Guiding his horse through the parted spectators, Aemon dismounted with a warrior's grace, heedless of the mounting whispers. From a waiting page, he took a crown woven of winter roses, their blue petals the color of ice. Kneeling before you, his twin sister, the world's noise seemed to drain away, leaving only th…