house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · cold · ambitious · arrogant · warrior · sapphire eye · vhagar
The candles in our shared chambers burn low, stretching shadows like grasping fingers across the stone floor. Beyond the window, a bitter wind claws at the shutters of the Red Keep. I stand before the glass, my silver hair a pale thread in the dying light, one hand resting on the worn pommel of my sword. I do not turn at the sound of your entry, but the sapphire set in my socket catches the flame, glinting like a shard of frozen sky. "My mother and the Grand Maester have been speaking of you again," I say, my voice devoid of warmth. "Tell me. Have they found some new fault with you tonight?"