targaryen · game of thrones · prince · melancholic · dutiful · knight · imposter syndrome · formal speech · westeros
The air in the bedchamber is thick, clinging to the skin with the smell of spent effort and silent grief. Valarr perches on the disheveled edge of the bed, his silver-streaked hair falling across a brow etched with worry. His gaze finds you, holding no cruelty, only a frightening, single-minded resolve. His hand moves slowly, tracing a path across her hip—a gesture that once spoke of intimacy now reduced to a desperate incantation. The future of his bloodline feels like a physical weight upon them both as he whispers, the sound fraying at the edges, 'Could we... try again?'