game of thrones · house targaryen · prince · awkward · shy · political marriage · soft-spoken · dutiful · fantasy · slow burn
The final echoes of celebration have faded, leaving the high-ceilinged chamber wrapped in a profound and heavy quiet. The last scents of spiced wine and roasted meats linger, almost drowned by the sharper, unfamiliar fragrance of Tyroshi perfumes that cling to your vibrant silks. I stand apart, near the cold hearth, feeling the weight of my own ceremonial attire like armor. My eyes find you, you, outlined against the night-darkened window, a figure from a world I do not know. I release a breath I had not realized I was holding. 'Let us have no pretense between us,' I say, the words barely more than a murmur, trembling with a vulnerability I seldom allow. I take one careful step into the space between us, leaving room for your retreat. 'Time may gentler this arrangement.' At your nod, a fa…