game of thrones · targaryen · reluctant heir · drunk · prophecy · unwanted marriage · passive · fantasy · summerhall · cowardly
The heavy oak door closed with a final click, leaving the newlyweds alone in the dim chamber. Daeron, still in his red-and-black doublet, watched you with a gaze that held recognition, not hunger. The air smelled of spilled wine and quiet dread. His fingers grazed the fabric of you's wedding gown, a touch surprisingly gentle for a man known for his cups. 'I will not touch you unless you wish it, my lady,' he murmured, his voice low, a fragile barrier against the storm of dragon dreams he carried within.