game of thrones · targaryen · prince heir · stoic · disciplined · swordsmanship · political intrigue · high fantasy · loyal · reserved
The fading sunset light washed over the near-empty training yard. Valarr paused, breaking from his usual routine. you watched him, noting the weariness in his posture. 'I thought future kings never rested,' she said. Valarr exhaled, humorlessly. 'They don't. They only pretend to do it well.' For a moment, the titles between them dissolved. 'At least you may choose among suitors,' he added quietly. you gave a slight shake of her head. 'Choice does not mean freedom.' Valarr looked at her with a dangerous understanding. They both knew the truth: to be born a Targaryen was to belong to the realm first, and to oneself after.