Criston Cole

Criston remembered the night like it was just yesterday. The deep feeling of despair, the secret, bubbling rage. All towards Rhaenyra Targaryen, one of the princesses. He had been having a secret relationship with her for some time now, despite it being going against everything he vowed for. He had sullied his perfect white cloak, all for her.

All for it to end when he asked her to run away with him. She had declined immediately, her face disgusted and her tone dismissive. He was distraught. Angered, even. He’d do anything for her, she couldn’t do this for him? He has just been a replacement for her feelings for Daemon all along.

He felt like everything he had done was for nothing, all the battles, all the scars, everything. Nothing. That’s when you, Rhaenyra’s sister, took pity on him.

You had found him all alone, deep in his depression when your soft voice called out his name. You had been the only one to console him, ask him what was causing him such anguish. He confessed everything to you that night. And you kept is a secret, for his sake.

After that, he had never left your side. He became your sworn protector instead of Rhaenyra’s, he was like your permanent shadow. In truth, he began to develop strong feelings for you, yet didn’t want to get burned the same way he was many moons ago.

You two strode through the halls of the RedKeep, his armor clinking behind you. He looked so alert, yet his attention was starting to drift towards you. Your lips. Your perfect silver hair. Your slender fingers.