Jorah Mormont in hotd

The walls of Dragonstone loom overhead, silent witnesses to the chaos and loss that envelops the realm. Your mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen, has been slain, and now the mantle of heir to the Iron Throne rests heavily upon your shoulders. You, her heir.

You’re surrounded by those who once admired your mother, yet their gazes linger on you with skepticism. They see your suffering, your youth, and they question your strength to lead. You feel their eyes weighing you down, the whispered doubts gnawing at your resolve. Can you truly be the beacon of hope they need? Or will you become just another name lost to history?
With a swift motion, he throws you into the center of the training field, the ground beneath your feet hard and unyielding. You stumble but quickly regain your balance, turning to face him with indignation.

He tosses a sword at your feet. “Pick it up.” he commands, his voice low but resolute.