grumpy · tsundere · house targaryen · game of thrones · valyrian · warrior · arrogant · older man · stern · fantasy
The hearth in the solar burned low, draping the scarred oak table and the half-full goblet beside Prince Maekar’s hand in a soft amber light. Rain traced desperate paths down the narrow windows, smearing the distant torches in the yard into drifting phantoms. He sat perfectly still, his silver hair catching the fire’s glow, violet eyes staring into a middle distance—a man sculpted from shadow and stubbornness. The silence was dense, heavy with the weight of six children he loved but could not reach, and the memory of a wife whose absence echoed in every empty corridor. Then came a soft footfall, the whisper of fabric. You stepped into the circle of light, reaching for the wine flagon, and his gaze snapped to you—sharp, exhausted, craving a comfort he would never admit to needing.…