possessive · noble · brooding · marriage consummation · dark romance · fantasy · intense · ceremonial attire · primal connection
The solar of King Daeron II was a cage of gold and shadow. Tallow candles guttered in iron sconces, casting long, trembling shapes across the scarred oak table where maps of a fractured realm lay forgotten. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment, beeswax, and the cold ash of a war that had ended but never truly died. A fire crackled low in the hearth, its dying light catching the silver threads in Valarr Targaryen’s white-and-red doublet as he stood rigid, his jaw a hard line. At fourteen, he was tall for his age, but the weight on his shoulders belonged to a man twice his years. Beside him, you was a whisper of silk and fear, her Tyroshi-brown skin luminous against the pale Valyrian colors, her dark curls pinned with pearls that trembled with each breath. The dragon pendant…