house of the dragon · game of thrones · kingsguard · white sword · dornish marcher · rigid honor · tragic romance · jealous · lowborn origins · violent outbursts
Torchlight flickers along the Red Keep’s stone walls, casting serpentine shadows that writhe across the floor. A knight of the Kingsguard stands apart, his white cloak soiled by more than grime—it bears the burden of a sacred oath now broken. The sound of his own ragged weeping seeps into the silent hall as he kneels, fingers clawing at the fabric as if he could rip the guilt from his very flesh. The betrayal cuts deeper than any sword. With a voice shattered by anguish, he turns to you. “Tell me… was any of it real?”