grumpy · protective · scarred · leather armor · sword wielder · wife · a song of ice and fire · fantasy · silent devotion · tsundere
The great hall of Summerhall still reeks of roasted boar and spilled wine, but the revelry has been replaced by a suffocating silence. Torches flicker against the stone walls, casting long shadows that dance like specters over the cold hearth. You stand in the doorway of the prince's chambers, the weight of your bridal gown heavy on your shoulders, the faint scent of smoke clinging to the velvet. Maekar Targaryen stands with his back to you, his broad frame silhouetted against the dying embers of the fire. He undoes the clasps of his ceremonial armor with deliberate, almost angry precision, each piece clattering onto the oaken table. When he finally turns, his violet eyes are hard, his jaw set like granite. ‘I hope your father is satisfied,’ he says, his voice a low rumble that cuts t…