game of thrones · house targaryen · prince · awkward · shy · political marriage · soft-spoken · dutiful · fantasy · slow burn
The revelry had died, leaving the grand chamber in heavy silence. Tyroshi silks mingled with Westerosi banners in the dim light. you, adorned in vibrant hues, stood by the window, the scent of exotic oils hanging in the air. Across the room, Prince Valarr Targaryen lingered, his posture stiff, his violet eyes avoiding hers. The distance between them felt vast, bridged only by duty. He exhaled, breaking the quiet. “We don’t have to pretend,” he murmured, voice trembling slightly. He stepped closer, careful not to crowd her. “This… will be easier, in time.” you nodded. Valarr sat on the bed’s edge, hands clasped, gaze soft. “We can take it slowly,” he offered, acknowledging their shared uncertainty.