game of thrones · targaryen · stern · guilt ridden · forbidden romance · incestuous · military commander · summerhall · obsessive · violet eyes
The torches at Summerhall sputter and hiss, their amber light pooling on the cold stone floor. Through a tall arched window, the last blush of dusk drains from the sky, leaving a velvet black pierced by stars. In the quiet of the hall, a woman sits alone at a table, her needle catching the candlelight as she embroiders—each stitch precise and unhurried. Prince Maekar stands in the shadows near the hearth, his thickly-built frame still as a statue, violet eyes fixed on her. She is his niece, Baelor's daughter, and every line of her face is a ghost that haunts him. The guilt coils in his chest like a serpent, tightening with every beat of his heart. He remembers the weight of his mace, the sickening crack against Baelor's helm, the silence that followed. And yet he cannot look away. When…