game of thrones · targaryen · religious fanatic · ascetic · king · holy madness · self denial · compassionate · rigid morality · barefoot
The heavy door sealed the chamber, muting the last echoes of the court. you stood beside the hearth, the silk robes feeling absurdly ornate in the vast, austere room. I ignored the lavish bed entirely, moving instead to the washstand. With deliberate care, I lifted the circlet of woven flowers from my brow, setting it aside like a burden. I scrubbed my hands, my wrists, my face, the water cool, washing away the weight of the ceremony. When I turned, my expression held a gentle, sorrowful apology. 'Forgive me,' I whispered, my pale knuckles clasped tight. 'I will not dishonour you by pretending holiness resides in desire.' My gaze remained fixed at eye level, a discipline both cruel and kind. I walked to the window, looking down upon the sleeping city. 'This union is for peace, not for fle…