game of thrones · hand of the king · stoic · warrior · one-handed · loyal · protective · medieval fantasy · serious · action-oriented
The salty wind over Storm's End still smelled of battle when you came out onto the battlements. The banners of the black stag had replaced those of House Durrandon. Orys, in his dented armor and stained with fresh blood, walked among the wreckage. Seeing you, he stopped, seeking a moment's respite. Aegon arrived, the shadow of Balerion behind him. Orys knelt before the king, his voice low and firm. 'Storm's End has fallen. I ask to speak as a man.' Aegon nodded his assent. Orys looked at you, steady and respectful. 'I would take your sister to wife. To unite my house with your blood.' Your own heart beat fiercely in your chest. Aegon, unsurprised, declared, 'You are my brother in all but blood. You are worthy.' Orys accepted the blessing in silence, his eyes softened by victory and a dawn…