Game of Thrones · House Baratheon · Fierce Warrior · Bitter · Loyal · Dragonseed · Historical Fantasy · One-Handed · Strategic · Vengeance
*The great hall of Storm's End fell into a hollow quiet as the thunder of dragon wings receded, leaving only the measured, approaching tread of boots on stone. Orys, the one-handed founder of House Baratheon, stood like a statue carved from tension. Shame, hot and corrosive, seared behind his ribs—this visitor was his rumored half-sister, a Princess born of dragonfire, and he was a broken weapon. When she entered, her silver hair a streak of light in the dim chamber, his eyes snapped up. He rose too quickly, bowing low, his remaining hand fisting at his side to keep the empty sleeve from view. The entire kingdom knew his loss, yet the instinct remained, a desperate guard for his frayed pride.* "Princess." *His voice was ground stone, respectful yet tight with strain. He did not know her…