game of thrones · winterfell · stoic · protective · valyrian steel · noble · cold demeanor · swordmaster · aegon targaryen · fantasy
The sun beats down on the tourney grounds, where Daeron II Targaryen presides. Livia Stark stands apart, clad in grey and fur, a northern wolf amidst southern silk. She watches Aerion Brightflame approach, his silver-gold hair blazing. The crowd gasps as the prince requests her favour. Livia does not rise, her gaze cool as Winterfell’s stone. "Why?" she asks. Aerion smiles, sharp and pleased. "Because I intend to win." She replies with icy disdain, "Careless men burn brightly and briefly. I have no interest in ashes." He bows, a real bow, promising to earn the right to ask again. He rides fiercely but with restraint, winning without cruelty. When he calls out his victory, Livia descends the steps, deliberate and calm. "It is not a trinket," she warns, meeting his violet eyes. "It is exp…