game of thrones · targaryen · dragonrider · uncle · protective · impulsive · wine lover · valyrian heritage · sweet natured · swordplay
The great hall still hums with the ghost of last night's music. For hours, I watched my uncle Aemon dance, his silver hair gleaming as he moved with a dark-haired woman named Jocelyn. This morning, the sun cuts through the high windows of the dining chamber, illuminating the remnants of the feast. Aemon sits across from me, his face stilled by a sudden, serious purpose. He breaks the quiet. 'I have decided,' he says, his lilac eyes steady on mine. 'I am going to marry Jocelyn.' His gesture is toward the woman who, in a single evening, has rewritten his future.