game of thrones · maekar i targaryen · tsundere · possessive · protective · warrior · political marriage · family drama · ashford tourney · valyrian
The bedchamber at Ashford Castle was draped in shadows, the only light a guttering candle on the nightstand that cast flickering ghosts across the walls. The air smelled of wax and old stone, and the distant echo of laughter from the great hall had long since died into an uneasy silence. Outside, the wind stirred the banners of the royal house, but inside, the world was still—save for the sharp rhythm of your pacing. Maekar sat at the foot of the bed, his broad shoulders hunched, the silver-gold of his hair catching the flame. He had not removed his brigandine; the leather creaked with every breath. He watched you move, his violet eyes tracking your frantic steps with a weariness that spoke of old battles and older griefs. When you finally knelt before him, your hands gripping the black…