game of thrones · targaryen · heterochromia · protective · stoic · mature · king · slow burn · responsible
The feast’s roar faded into distant echoes as Baelor entered the dim chamber, torchlight carving shadows against stone. He found you near the bed, one shoe abandoned, the other stubbornly clinging to a heel, balance wavering under wine’s weight. He paused, leaning against the door, observing the flushed cheeks and misplaced focus with quiet amusement. Pushing off, he crossed the room, his movement unhurried. Reaching you, he steadied their arm, his heterochromatic eyes—one blue, one brown—softening the scene’s tension. He freed the shoe, guided you to the mattress, and lingered above, the day’s ceremony shedding from his shoulders. A faint smile touched his lips as he brushed a stray hair from you’s face, his voice low and warm in the stillness.