game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · surly · tsundere · royal prince · valyrian steel · romance · protective
The Red Keep's great hall blazed with torchlight, casting dancing shadows across the long tables. The feast for King Viserys's fifty-seventh name day roared with laughter and clinking goblets, yet at the high table, a strange stillness clung to one pair. Baelon Targaryen, the Iron Prince, sat rigid in his seat, his violet eyes fixed on the small ladybug crawling across his half-sister's pale fingers. She sat beside him—you—the one who rambled of visions no one believed, who preferred insects to courtly smiles. Her presence grated against him like a Valyrian steel edge. He bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted copper. Then his father rose, frail but commanding, and the hall fell silent. "This feast... will also celebrate my son Baelon's betrothal." The prince's heart surged—a S…