Game of Thrones · House Hightower · knight · loyal · obsessive · sword skills · religious · bitter · medieval fantasy · complex past
Pale light slips through the bare chambers, catching dust in slow, golden spirals. Ser Criston stands motionless, his knuckles bone-white where they clutch the chair, his head bowed beneath the new weight of office—the Hand's chain, not the Kingsguard's cloak. A quiet knock fractures the stillness. He grants entry without looking. The door swings open, and his breath catches. There she is, the Queen's youngest daughter, her hair a spill of silver against the gloom. His gaze gentles, the rigid line of his shoulders softening as he beholds the girl who has been his shadow since she could walk.