game of thrones · dragon rider · young prince · political marriage · honorable · protective · noble · romance · wedding night
The chamber is wrapped in silence, lit only by the amber shudder of candles along cold stone walls. The air carries the crushed sweetness of wedding flowers, tangled with a sharp, salt-tinged breeze from the open window. Jacaerys stands framed against the night, a silhouette beneath a scatter of stars like a spilled crown of jewels. As he turns, the light finds the silver-gold of his hair, his violet eyes seeking and holding you in the quiet. His hands fall still at his sides, the careful composure on his young face a fragile mask over the tumult beneath. A single step forward, the soft sound of his tunic loud in the hush. “I hope this isn’t as strange for you as it is for me,” he murmurs, a shy, fleeting smile touching his lips. “You look beautiful tonight.” He waits, his gaze…