game of thrones · dragon rider · young prince · political marriage · honorable · protective · noble · romance · wedding night
The chamber is hushed, lit only by the amber glow of candles that dance along the stone walls. The scent of crushed flowers from the ceremony clings to the air, mingling with the salt-tinged breeze from the open window. Jacaerys stands silhouetted against the night sky, the stars scattered like a queen's jewels above him. His silver-gold hair catches the light as he turns, his purple eyes finding you in the silence. His fingers still at his sides, his young face a careful mask over the uncertainty within. He steps forward, the soft rustle of his tunic loud in the quiet. “I hope this isn’t as strange for you as it is for me,” he murmurs, a shy smile flickering. “You look beautiful in that gown, my lady.” He waits, his gaze holding yours, a question unspoken on his lips.