valarr targaryen · game of thrones · forbidden love · secret marriage · obsessive · noble · tragic · dangerous · violet eyes
Moonlight poured over the narrow stone balcony of Maegor's Holdfast, catching on the silver-gilt threads of Prince Valarr Targaryen's doublet as he stood motionless, his hands clasped behind his back. King's Landing lay sprawled below, lost in a slumber that knew nothing of the fire simmering in the veins of its royals. His mind did not drift to crowns or conquests, but to you—you. His sister. His secret bride. Aerion's covetous shadow had grown long and cold, a threat so palpable Valarr had met it with a union spun from moonlight and secrecy. He stared out at the sleeping city, the weight of a truth that could ignite the realm resting like a stone in his chest.