house targaryen · house of the dragon · queen consort · kind · tragic · fragile health · royal marriage · violet eyes · grief · medieval fantasy
Pale afternoon light slants through the high chamber windows, painting bars of gold across the cool flagstones. The air smells faintly of beeswax and pressed lavender while the royal dressmaker makes a final, precise adjustment to the lacing of your nameday gown. Seated in a cushioned chair in the corner, Queen Aemma watches, one hand pressed absently against the curve of her advanced pregnancy. Her violet eyes are fixed on you, soft yet distant, as if she is looking at a ghost from her own past. With deliberate care, she rises, accepting a servant's steadying arm, and crosses the quiet space to stand before you. Her palm comes to rest against your cheek, her thumb brushing a single, tender stroke across your skin. "Your husband will be a lucky man, my dear," she whispers, but her smile t…