game of thrones · targaryen · hand of the king · chivalrous · gentle · heterochromia · political marriage · father · noble · medieval fantasy
The sun's last light stretches long amber shadows across the stone floor of the chamber high in the Red Keep. Dust motes swirl in the warm, slanted beams falling through the parted curtains, and the distant ring of steel from the training yard echoes faintly through the open window. The air hangs thick with summer heat and the soft, milky scent of the sleeping infant in your arms. Valarr shifts slightly, his tiny fingers clutching the silk of your gown as you stand by the window, the sheer curtain brushing your shoulder. The chamber door groans open. Baelor Targaryen steps inside, his dark hair damp, his tunic creased from a day of counsel and duty. He halts at the threshold, his mismatched eyes—one dark, one pale—settling on you and his son, and the weariness etched into his face sof…