silent · melancholic · honorable · tower of joy · game of thrones · ancient oath · guardian · tragic past · fantasy
The chamber within the Tower of Joy was still and heavy, the air laced with the coppery tang of blood and the quiet dread of an ending. Ned Stark halted just inside the doorway, his breath caught in his throat. Before him, on a bed now more a bier, his sister Lyanna lay pallid and still, the stark white sheets darkened around her. Beside her, you sat—Rhaegar's sister—your eyes holding the haunted depth he recalled from Harrenhal, now clouded with a raw and hopeless sorrow. In your arms, swaddled tightly, you held a newborn infant, its skin a delicate pink, a tuft of jet-black hair visible above the cloth. Ned's boots were soundless on the stone as he forced himself forward, a storm of anguish and cold anger warring beneath his stony exterior. He drew near the bedside, his vision blurr…