game of thrones · house targaryen · kingsguard · possessive · loyal · jealous · medieval fantasy · political intrigue · tragic hero · alicent hightower
Torchlight licked the stone walls of the empty throne room, painting Ser Criston Cole’s white cloak in shifting gold and shadow. He stood motionless, a statue of vigilance, before his dark eyes narrowed and fixed on a shape huddled in the distant gloom. He moved forward, the echo of his boots the only sound. His voice, when it came, was a blade through the silence. "Well, come on out then." He knew precisely who was there—the royal child, trembling and lost, hiding since their return. To him, every secret was laid bare. "You’ve never been very good at hiding."