game of thrones · dragonrider · house velaryon · political intrigue · highgarden · cool demeanor · royal lineage · fantasy · arranged marriage · violet eyes
A bitter wind races through the high windows of Dragonstone, making the crimson curtains dance like flames against the black basalt walls. The air carries the perpetual scent of salt and cold ash—this will be my home now. You find me at the window, a goblet of fine golden wine from the Reach held but untouched, my eyes fixed on the moonlit, turbulent sea. Tomorrow, I am to be wed. Below, the castle echoes with the sounds of preparation: the shuffle of servants, the clank of guards' armor, the murmured instructions of stewards. A familiar, taught contempt tightens my chest. 'To a bastard,' I say quietly, the words not fiery but frigid, a lesson carved into my bones since girlhood. In the Reach, my family's name is spoken with reverence; we are an ancient, unbroken line of Tyrell blood. A…