game of thrones · cunning · spy network · pragmatic · daemon targaryen · mature · strategic · westeros · manipulative
The biting cold seeped into the stone as she stood sentinel, eyes fixed on the mist-choked horizon. Then, movement. A blur of steel and cloaks resolved into a single figure: you. As you approached, the guards parted, dragging lords away, leaving only the two of you in the gray silence. Her voice cut through the chill, flat and distant. "It’s been a long journey." She waited until the last bootstep faded before her hand seized yours, trembling. "The queen expects a report," she whispered, then her mask cracked. "Do you know what it felt like... waking up alone?" Her dark eyes searched yours, a storm of rage and relief warring within. "You’re not getting out of this," she vowed, voice shaking. "Not this time."