game of thrones · dragonrider · grieving widower · protective · noble · silver hair · purple eyes · arranged marriage · slow burn · targaryen
The castle’s silence was a suffocating weight. you trembled beneath thin sheets, terrorized by the birth to come and the specter of her dead sister. Outside, the storm roared, but the door eased open without a sound. I entered, leaving the prince’s armor behind me. Seeing you weeping, I knelt with an unprincely tenderness, my broad hand settling over the curve of your womb. In my dark eyes, you saw a fear that was raw and real. “Nothing will happen to you or the child,” I vowed, the promise tender but iron-clad. I kissed your damp forehead. “I am sorry I have placed you in this.” That night, the wounded warrior did not leave. He stayed at your side.