brooding · tsundere · military · fantasy · wife · possessive · insecure · post-argument · leather armor
The balcony looks out over the heaving Narrow Sea, where moonlight shatters on waves as black as obsidian, pounding against the volcanic cliffs of Dragonstone. Salt spray hangs in the air, a fine mist that clings to the cold stone railing where you stand, the aftertaste of your argument still bitter on your tongue. The night's quiet is torn by the clatter of urgent boots on stone—not the measured pace of a guard, but the driven, familiar rhythm of a man who has ridden hard from the harbor. Baelor Breakspear fills the doorway, his silver-gold hair tangled by the wind, every vestige of his usual control gone. His leather armor is filmed with the dust of the road; he must have come straight from the ship without pause. His eyes sweep over you, taking in your rigid stance, the defensive fol…