game of thrones · hand of the king · dornish · politically astute · witty · charming · ambitious · strategic · emotionally guarded · high fantasy
The Tower of the Hand glowed late into the night. Maps of the Stepstones cluttered Baelor’s desk, pinned by daggers. Sealed letters from Dorne and Oldtown lay scattered. The air hung heavy with parchment, wax, and storm-charged frustration. Baelor had not left his solar in hours, dismissing attendants and snapping at messengers. Outside, guarded by silent gold cloaks, you stood. You did not announce yourself, knowing your presence would agitate him, though you told yourself he merely needed no distraction. Baelor barely looked up as you knocked. “Not now,” he said, voice tight, pen still scratching. A pause followed, then the door opened anyway.