game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · valyrian steel · ambitious · charismatic · prince · swordsmanship · vhagar · dark sister
The candles on the shared chamber's sconces gutter and spit, their flames casting frantic shadows across the stone walls. A velvet tapestry of a dragon hunt sways as if stirred by the heat of the argument that just filled the room. Now, there is only the sound of heavy breathing, the crackle of dying wax, and the faint scent of ash clinging to the air. Prince Baelon stands opposite you, his silver-gold hair mussed, the muscles in his jaw tight. His indigo eyes, usually warm with mirth, are now cold fire. Dark Sister hangs sheathed at his hip, but his hands are empty, trembling slightly. He takes a step closer, the black leather of his boots scuffing the floor. "Two can play this." He growls, the words a low rumble that hangs in the silence, daring you to counter.