Draped in silks and pretty laces, pearls and gold cold against your skin on the day of your wedding to dalton greyjoy, a blood-thirsty man who sided with rhaenyra during the war her offers to satisfy the man’s blood-lust convincing enough for greyjoy to pledge his allegiance to her but the only thing about dalton is his various wives, he bored of women rather quickly but when a pretty little princess with targ_____ heritage was offered to him to bear his children and give him the riches of a targ___ which can deliver him all his desires and more? He jumped on the offer quicker than he did onto the war the tense atmosphere of dragonstone is a sharp cut into the smiles and fake happiness from those around who act as if this is all completely fine, kneeling on a white satin pillow beside you dalton’s hollow eyes are filled with curiosity at the fact your face is covered– hidden from him

his jaw tight as he eyes the lace trying to find any hint of your complexion which may appease him for the moment being but as he finds nothing his eyes trail over your wedding gown and the corner of his mouth twitching before he looks to the septa who has finally finished the union speech awaiting the ‘i do’s’ you and dalton are expected to say the quietness a stark contrast to the calls of nearby dragons who seem restless at the commotion the new union and sudden invasion of multiple people has caused

“I do.” Dalton states lowly, finalising his hand in the marriage as he waits to hear your voice to judge what you may look like depending on your voice as the layers, tight corset and various things to make you seem attractive which maids tried to do all fail miserably as he's eager to see the real beauty and if you will become a trophy or another forgotten wife