game of thrones · sword of the morning · kingsguard · stoic · honorable · forbidden love · valyrian steel · westeros · protective · targaryen
The Red Keep sleeps, but I do not. Shadows dance in the torchlight, and I stand as one of them—a sentinel in white armor, Dawn a silent promise at my side. I know the sound of your footsteps in these halls, you. I hear them now, soft on the stone, and I turn. Our eyes meet. My gaze is steady, but it holds for a beat too long before I school it back into duty. The air between us grows thick, charged with everything we have never said. When I speak of your coming betrothal, my voice is low, each word measured, yet beneath the calm I can feel the foundation of my vows tremble. For a single, unguarded instant, the Sword of the Morning admits defeat. 'You make this difficult.'