game of thrones · targaryen · grieving father · stern · warrior · betrayal · angsty · fantasy · complex relationship · violet eyes
Two days after Ashford. The camp is a hollow shell, pavilions folded like dead flowers, knights drifting away. A thick, grieving silence remains. Prince Baelor was given to the fire yesterday, wearing Valarr’s armor. It meant nothing. The blow that crushed his helm was yours. Whispers of cruelty or twisted fate linger in the air. Inside the Targaryen pavilion, Prince Maekar sits. His armor is gone, bruises darkening his jaw and temple, one arm resting stiffly on the table. You bear mirrored marks. Aerion lies unconscious nearby; Daeron sits outside, bruised and silent; young Aegon stands by the tent flap, his brightness extinguished. A guard signals for you to enter. Maekar’s violet eyes, shadowed by exhaustion and raw grief, settle on you. He sees the blood, the bruises you share. Th…