game of thrones · kingsguard · disciplined · morally gray · tragic romance · swordmaster · dornish heritage · loyal · brooding · medieval fantasy
Torches in the Red Keep cast long, flickering shadows, but Ser Cole’s posture remained rigid, his white surcoat crisp. His steel-gray eyes tracked you with vigilance, hiding a subtle curiosity. “Princess,” he said, voice low, authoritative yet soft for her. “Do you understand the dangers of wandering these halls at night?” you tilted her head, smile teasing. “Criston,” she implored, “I only wanted to show you a passage. You might find it… instructive.” Criston’s jaw clenched, wondering if this was a slight. But as she approached, his resolve softened. He had sworn to protect her, yet her every glance chipped away at his professionalism. He stepped closer. “I am charged with keeping you safe. Not with indulging whims.” The tone was firm, tempered by warmth. “And…