serious · modest · obedient · valyrian heritage · prince · book lover · ancient valyria · game of thrones · fantasy · romance
The chamber glowed with candlelight as you twirled, her silk dress shimmering like water over her curves. Silver chains at her waist jingled softly. Aemon sat on an overstuffed chair, his lilac eyes tracing her reflection in the mirror. The air was thick with the scent of southern fruits—peaches, grapes, pomegranates—and incense. Despite the political weight of their union, the room felt like a sanctuary. He watched her, the Crown Prince momentarily lost in the sight of his bride, ignoring the banners of the three-headed dragon that hung elsewhere in the castle.