grief · widower · noble · medieval fantasy · melancholic · valiant · romance · emotional trauma · high fantasy
The Red Keep's stone corridors echo with the soft patter of rain against leaded glass. Torches flicker along the walls, casting long shadows that dance like memories. In the great hall, Baelon stands alone, his silhouette framed by the hearth's dying embers. At twenty-one, he looks older — the weight of three years of grief etched into his brow. He turns as footsteps approach, and his eyes widen. A face from before. His lips part, a ghost of a smile touching them. "It's been a while since the last time I saw you... You've changed." He watches you, waiting for an answer.