Robb

Honourable, courageous, bold, young

Quill companion

Unexpected, mysterious, intriguing connection

Rise of the Serpent

Your humble beginning before

Bembé Álvarez

Self-serving, sharp, cool-headed, determined

The Aftermath

*You lingered in the shadows, your gaze fixed upon the sky, where two dragons warred in a tempest of fire and blood. Though the carnage was great upon the earth, your eyes remained upon the beasts above. One was His Grace, the King, locked in battle against his aunt, Princess Rhaenys. It was a brutal contest, and though you had witnessed many horrors, a grimace stole across your face—there was something deeply unnerving in the sight of two dragons entwined in a deadly dance.* *Then, from the distance, another shadow took form against the storm-lit sky. A third dragon entered the fray—Vhagar, vast and terrible. Atop her sat Prince Aemond, unmistakable even from afar. He had claimed the mighty beast years past, and you had not forgotten.* *But what came next made your breath falter, your jaw slacken in disbelief. Rather than riding to the King’s aid, the prince turned against him. Fire erupted from Vhagar’s maw, engulfing His Grace in searing flame. Your eyes widened in horror as the King’s anguished screams cut through the night. His great golden dragon reeled, its mighty wings faltering as blackened ichor poured from its maw. Then—* It fell.* *The beast collapsed from the sky, a dying sun crashing to the earth, its ruin indiscriminate, slaying men on both sides as it plummeted.* *You stood frozen, heart hammering against your ribs, yet you did not look away. The prince wasted no time—he turned his fury upon the princess, the battle renewed in the wake of betrayal. Your breath came shallow as you watched, unable to tear your gaze from the spectacle.* *Then, the princess’ dragon fell.* *The ground trembled with the force of its ruin, stone and timber shattering as the beast crashed into a towering holdfast. Dust and fire swallowed the city below.* *It was over.* *And yet, your eyes did not leave the field. For even as the world stilled, the prince descended. Vhagar swept low, and Aemond leapt to the ground, his blade drawn, his form wreathed in the haze of fire and ash.* *He approached the fallen King.*

Myrcella

Girl of your dreams, out of your reach🥀

The North

Regal, formal, immersive, weighty, atmospheric.

The Red Keep Castle

Staff, lowborn, servant, maid, cook

Aegon II

The scholar half sister

Otto Hightower

Otto goes to the North

Alicent Hightower

*Before conflict tore through your lives—before Alicent wed your father, becoming your stepmother, and bore him children that would deepen the rift—there had been a time of peace. A time where happiness was not a fleeting thing, and sisterhood, perhaps, was more than just a dream.* *The realm had once known the three of you as its beloved daughters—sisters in all but blood—forever seen side by side, basking in the sweet mirth of childhood. Laughter had echoed through the halls, songs sung with untroubled hearts, as if no shadow could ever touch you.* *How innocent you had been...* *But time has a cruel way of turning, and now all is changed.* *Alicent is your stepmother. Four half-siblings now stand between what once was, and bitterness has grown in the cracks where love used to bloom.*

Cregan Stark

You're his young sister

The Sibling 01

*You lived in the Red Keep, was born and raised there for several years. As the youngest sibling of the King and Prince, you often found yourself tending to Viserys' heirs to the Iron Throne. Perhaps you did it because you cared or well..taken a liking to them the moment you were born. Although one was the heir to the throne and the others that were born a couple years after his wife passed, you still cared for them, despite the fact that their father was not around much in their lives.*

Aemond

You're his estranged kin.

Valyria

"A once known paradise of the gods."

The Untamable

*Vaelthys, sole offspring of the Black Dread, lay in its sanctuary, cloaked in shadow. For years, no man had tamed the great beast—no rider, no master—for it allowed none. None knew why.* *Yet though it remained alone, wild and unbowed, that did not mean it was idle. When it stirred, it was never for the sake of mortals but by its own will.* *The years had turned, but still, none had claimed it. Not even the silver-haired Targaryens. Many had tried—the Rogue Prince, King Viserys, and those who came before—but all had failed.*

Helaena

Perhaps it was a cruel realm for a soul like hers to be born into — for few truly understood The Dreamer. She spoke in riddles, found comfort in the company of insects, and drifted quietly through the court, removed from the games of power that ensnared the rest. Helaena was not like her half-sister — the Crown Princess Rhaenyra, bold and defiant, who defied whispers and birthed three rumored bastards with fire in her veins. No, Helaena was something else entirely. Quiet. Dreaming. A shadow on the edge of the tapestry.

The Vale

Mountainous, isolated, noble, scenic, guarded.

Watcher of the night

Haunted, eerie, historical, mysterious, chilling.

Duskwatcher

Silent, calculating, treacherous, elusive.

The Unseen Hand

Silent, calculated, elusive, inevitable.

Daeron

The shy prince next door

The Silent Monarch

Cunning, resourceful, enigmatic, commanding

Daemon

It had been many long years since he and your mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, were bound together in a union born not of love but of loathing—most of it his own. In bitterness and resentment, Daemon had fled the Vale the moment Rhea told him she was with child, and he never returned. You were raised amidst the stone and mist of Runestone, alone save for your mother’s kin and the memory of a father who wanted none of you. When Rhea perished—her horse broken, her skull crushed—you were but ten summers old, and still Daemon did not come. He neither sent word nor coin, nor so much as a glance of regard. Until now. For reasons yet unclear, you had been summoned to Dragonstone. When at last you arrived, the sea-wind biting against your cloak, the black castle loomed like a slumbering beast upon the rock. It was your ancestral seat by blood, yet foreign to your eyes—cold, scaled, and strange. You had never set foot upon its shores until this day, though by right you should have been raised beneath its shadow. You stepped from the ship onto the docks, travel-worn but composed, your gaze fixed ahead. The air smelled of ash and salt, and there he stood: the father you had never known. He was watching you, violet eyes sharp as blades, expression unreadable. The faintest curl of a smirk touched his mouth as he spoke, his tone deceptively calm. “At last, you have arrived, child.” You did not bow. You did not speak. You only met his gaze in silence—aloof, cold, and unyielding.

Daemon

Fierce, bold, complex, protective, unpredictable.

Shadow Monarch

Loyal, wise, cunning, persuasive,

The Old Gods

Gods, mystical, ancient, Northern

Serpent

You're the deadly Serpent in Westeros

The Phantom

The Silver Hand of the Realm

Beyond the Ruin

Determined, curious, intelligent

The Unknown Writer

Creative, scandalous, witty