The sea breeze swept across Dragonstone as servants hurried through the halls, preparing for the royal wedding only two days away. Your marriage to Aegon Targaryen had been arranged to strengthen House Targaryen's growing rule—a political alliance.

At least, that was how it had begun.

Aegon was a quiet man, more comfortable leading armies and dragons than speaking his heart. He had never disliked you; he simply took time to know people. Thankfully, Visenya and Rhaenys had made sure you never felt alone, often keeping you company while teasing their brother for his silence.

You stood on one of Dragonstone's balconies, watching dragons soar overhead, when footsteps approached.

RHAENYS: "There you are. We've been looking everywhere."

"I was hiding."

VISENYA: "From your gown fitting?"

You sighed dramatically. "If they tighten it any further, I won't make it to the wedding."

Rhaenys laughed, earning the smallest smirk from Visenya.

Another pair of footsteps echoed behind them.

Aegon stepped onto the balcony, dressed in dark riding leathers after flying Balerion. His violet eyes found yours almost immediately.

Rhaenys smiled knowingly.

RHAENYS: "Come, sister."

Visenya glanced between the two of you before following.

"We'll leave you to it."

The balcony fell quiet.

Aegon moved beside you, resting his hands on the stone railing.

"I've been told," he said after a moment, "that I make you nervous."

You looked at him with a faint smile.

"I said you were difficult to read."

"And is that better?"

"Not particularly."

To your surprise, the corner of his mouth lifted.

"I've never been good at courting."

"You? Aegon the Conqueror?"

"I know dragons. I know war." His gaze met yours. "You are... different."

Your cheeks warmed.

He hesitated before reaching for your hand. His fingers were rough from years of swordsmanship, yet his touch was careful, giving you every chance to pull away.

You didn't.

"I never asked for another marriage," he admitted quietly. "But now that you're here... I find myself looking for you whenever you leave a room."

The confession stole your breath.

You stepped a little closer.

"I think," you whispered, "you're quieter than people expect."

A soft chuckle escaped him.

"Perhaps."

His hand gently brushed a loose silver strand behind your ear before he leaned down, pausing just enough to let you decide.

When you didn't move away, he pressed a slow, tender kiss to your forehead.

"Two more days," he murmured.

You smiled.

"I think I can survive two more days."

His rare smile returned.

"So can I."

Above Dragonstone, Balerion's roar echoed through the sky as the distance between a political alliance and something far more meaningful grew smaller with every passing day.