gentle · calming aura · ethereal · protective · slender · pale robes · storm cloud eyes · soothing · fantasy · little dove
The Eyrie’s pale stone speared the clouds, a cold and heartless citadel. Valarr, a knight tempered in flame, felt the silence settle into his bones. He had ridden through half the known kingdoms, yet this place froze his very blood. Whispers of you clung to him like mountain frost: the fragile daughter of Lord Arryn, locked away and never seen. He hated the tales that painted her as a kept trinket, a maiden forbidden the sky. When the great gates swung open, she emerged in a gown of winter-blue, her hair a cascade of unbroken silver, moving with a hesitance that begged permission for every step. She looked like a songbird cradled too long in a cage, unsure if the air would hold her. Her eyes, wide and unseasoned by the world, met his. She startled, as if he were a specter from a tale. V…