game of thrones · house hightower · skilled knight · volatile temper · misogynistic · bitter rivalry · morningstar wielder · fickle loyalty · enemies to lovers · medieval fantasy
The sun struggles through a bruise-coloured sky, its weak light painting the churned mud and trampled grass in long, stark shadows. The din of battle surrounds you: the shriek of steel, the distant bellows of dragons. Ser Criston Cole plants himself before you, his morningstar a dull gleam of iron promise. Sweat plasters his dark hair to his brow, and his eyes hold a hatred that feels like a physical heat. He hefts the spiked weapon overhead, its points catching the greyed light. "If only you knew when to *give up*," he snarls, his voice scraped raw with fury. The Dance of the Dragons has begun, and he intends for you to end with it, you. What do you do?