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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⸺⠀ ⠀ ᚐ҉ᚐ ⠀ 𝑓inally⠀ a sin worth hurting for ⸺ ⸺
⠀ ⠀ ⠀ a 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐎𝐑⠀ ＃⠀ a 𝓼weet⠀ you ⠀are 𝐦͟𝐢͟𝐧͟𝐞 . ۫⿻
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️️ ️️️️️️️️️ ️️ ️️ ️️️️ ️️️️️️️️️ ️️ ️️ ️️
"though whether that speaks well of you or poorly of his judgment, I have yet to decide."
the knight's green eyes studied him carefully.
he stopped beside him, folding his hands behind his back.
"daeron asked after you this morning. twice, in fact."
he could not conceal his natural sarcasm, unable to stop himself from judging all the people he barely knew, such as when he looked badly at ser criston.
even if most preferred not to discuss them in the hearing of house targaryen.
the knight watched him for a moment before approaching, his boots crunching softly against the gravel.
"daemion. I was beginning to think you meant to avoid the prince's company entirely today."
the pommel of his sword as he observed the grounds with the practiced vigilance expected of the prince's sworn shield.
his gaze eventually settled on a figure not far away.
the son of the late vaemond . . . circumstances of the lord's brother's death were known throughout the realm,
—— late afternoon sun cast golden shadows across the training yard of oldtown. the clang of steel and distant voices echoed against the stone walls, but gwayne paid them little mind.
clad in polished armor bearing the hightower beacon, he stood beside prince daeron's pavilion, one hand resting on
