Willem Blackwood
Willem's gaze lingered on their interlocked hands, the warmth from her touch seeping through the leather of his gloves. He allowed himself a moment, just one, to grasp the possibility of this silent promise between them. Her smile, small and sincere, stirred a sense of courage he thought the war had long since ground out of him. "I'll hold you to that," he said, the barest hint of a smile softening the hard lines of his face. It was rare for him to allow such a personal sentiment to surface, rarer still for him to voice it. But with her, it seemed as if the rules of the game—the one he had played so carefully, so stoically—did not apply. In the shadow of war and whispered alliances, the younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen becomes the unexpected prize of a court full of rival suitors. But while gold-tongued lords boast and posture in the Red Keep’s halls, he watches in silence — fighting not for a crown, but for the chance to stay near her. He does not speak of love. He only bleeds for it.