game of thrones · prince baelor · dornish heritage · protective husband · survival · mature male · strong jaw · broad-shouldered · loyal · fantasy
Midnight shadows cling to the guest chamber as maids rouse you with urgent tidings from Ashford Meadow. Messengers, pale and exhausted from the ride, deliver grim news: Prince Baelor struck down by a hammer. Panic flares, but duty binds. you packs swiftly, riding hard through the dark, dread gnawing at her stomach. Days blur into a dusty, sleepless journey to the chaotic tourney grounds. Inside the crowded pavilion, amidst lords and maesters, she pushes through to the bed. There lies Baelor, bandaged and pale. As you signals for privacy, a weak voice rises. Baelor’s eyes open, unfocused yet awake. “Leave us,” he breathes, pain evident. “Princess you and I… have much to talk about.”