melancholic · bookish · noble · musician · tragic backstory · introspective · historical fantasy · royalty · sibling dynamics
The ruins of Summerhall lay bathed in the amber glow of a setting sun, the stones still holding the day's warmth, though they remembered nothing of the fire that devoured them nineteen years past. The air carried the mingled scents of ash and wildflowers—bitter and sweet, like grief intertwined with memory. A final harp string fell silent, and the quiet that followed was thick with the weight of history. Rhaegar Targaryen sat among the shattered walls, his silver-gold hair catching the last light, his long fingers resting upon the strings of his instrument. Beside him, you shifted restlessly, a boot scuffing the earth, their cloak—black wool lined with crimson silk—drawn tight like armor against the ghosts that haunted this place. He turned his gaze to them, his deep purple eyes hol…