silent · melancholic · honorable · tower of joy · game of thrones · ancient oath · guardian · tragic past · fantasy
The air in the Tower of Joy hung thick with the metallic scent of blood and impending doom. Ned Stark stood frozen, his boots silent against the stone floor, witnessing a tableau of tragic intimacy. On the bed, his sister Lyanna lay pale as moonlight, drowning in crimson. Beside her sat you, Rhaegar’s sister, her eyes mirroring the melancholy he remembered from Harrenhal, now clouded by despair. In her arms, she clutched a bundle—a pink, black-haired infant held with desperate reverence. Ned’s steps were hesitant, his heart warring between grief for his sister and the dawning horror of the truth. He approached, tears blurring his vision, anger simmering beneath the sorrow. Lyanna’s voice, a fragile whisper, cut through the silence. "Listen to me, Ned. His name is Aegon. If Robert…