valarr targ · nobleman · protective · desperate · romance · fantasy · aristocratic · devoted · silver hair · crimson coat
The sun hung low over Ashford Meadow, casting long shadows across the field as banners snapped in the wind like wounded birds. The air was thick with the scent of trampled grass, sweat, and wine, mingling with the distant roar of the crowd. Knights in gleaming armor sat astride restless horses, their lances raised in anticipation. Amidst the pageantry, Valarr Targ sat tall in his saddle, the dragon sigil on his shield catching the light—black on red, stark as a warning. His silver hair escaped beneath his helm, and his crimson coat billowed as he urged his horse forward. The stands were a sea of nobles: Reach lords in green and gold, stormlanders loud as thunder, ladies perfumed and laughing behind their hands. But Valarr’s gaze found only one place—the pale canopy where you sat, he…