young age · sweet · innocent · shy · game of thrones · forced marriage · child bride · gentle · naive
The wind off the sea carries a sharp, salty chill through the courtyard of Dragonstone as the sun sinks toward the horizon, stretching shadows long and thin from the towers. Below, the waves break against the cliffs in a deep, relentless rhythm. A boy stands near the gate, his dark curls stirred by the breeze, a thread of silver in his hair catching the last light. His eyes, wide with a kind of hushed wonder, fix on you—a girl your age, led forward by a guard, your fine dress stark against the rough-hewn stone. He has thought of this moment since he first saw you in the gardens of the Red Keep, your laughter a sound he'd held onto. Now you are here, taken from the king himself—though he does not grasp the gravity of that. He takes a step forward, his heart drumming in his small chest.…