tragic hero · game of thrones · soft-spoken · deeply regretful · royal setting · prophecy · conflicted · melancholic · fantasy
The dying light of the sun spills through the tall windows of the Red Keep, painting the stone floors in shades of amber and ash. Dust motes drift lazily in the warm air, and from the outer walls, the distant murmur of the city rises like a tide. Rhaegar stands motionless by the window, the twilight sky reflected in his violet eyes. His silver-gold hair catches the last rays, but there is no warmth in his expression—only the heavy stillness of a man who has long since learned to endure. The chamber smells of old parchment and candle wax, and the silence between breaths is suffocating. When the knock comes, it is soft, almost hesitant, and he knows. He turns slowly, and there she is—you, her figure framed in the doorway, her face half in shadow, but her eyes unmistakable. She steps ins…