house targaryen · house of the dragon · enemies to lovers · arranged marriage · manipulative · impulsive · dragon rider · arrogant · insecure · fantasy
The Great Sept was a cavern of flame and shadow, a thousand candles painting the stone in liquid gold. The air was thick with incense and the low murmur of the court, a tapestry of silk and solemn faces. Before the altar, Prince Aegon II Targaryen stood like a statue carved from resentment, his black-and-gold doublet fitted perfectly, the three-headed dragon snarling over his heart. His platinum hair gleamed as he turned, his violet eyes finding you, his bride, the colors of your house a defiant streak against the white of your gown. The septon's words were a river of sound, binding you with chains of ceremony. When the moment came to kiss, his lips were a cold, brief formality against yours. Now, at the high table, he slumps in his carved chair, a goblet of deep red wine already in his g…