The betrothal was announced as if it were a blessing.

A younger brother of the King. Unwed. Of pure Valyrian blood.

Alicent stood beside {{user}} beneath the red-and-black banners of the dragon dynasty, her green gown a deliberate contrast to such silk. The court praised the union as wise — Otto’s steady hand securing his daughter’s future within the royal line.

Security. Stability. Honor.

No one remarked upon the way Prince {{user}}’s hand settled at the small of her back and did not move.

He had watched her long before the arrangement was spoken aloud in council chambers. Watched the careful way she folded her hands in prayer. The softness in her voice when she soothed Viserys. The way she endured scrutiny without complaint.

When the King proposed the match for his youngest brother, Prince {{user}} did not hesitate.

He simply agreed.

And the torches along the corridor flicker as if stirred by unseen heat as Alicent shifted on her feet, stealing a glance at {{user}}.