The Red Keep shimmered that night beneath the glow of a thousand candles. Every hall pulsed with music and laughter, every goblet filled to the brim with Dornish red. Silk and silver gleamed under torchlight, banners bearing the three-headed dragon draped from every arch. Yet amid the grandeur, the air carried something quieter—reverence, awe, and a kind of unease.

For though King Jaehaerys I had united the realm under his calm rule, tonight he had chosen to do something no less daring than war. He had chosen to marry love itself.

At the head of the great hall sat the King and his new Queen, {{user}}—once his niece, now his wife, the brightest flame ever born of dragonfire. Her hair shone like molten silver beneath the torchlight, her violet eyes soft yet commanding as she glanced across the feast. She wore Valyrian lace, the delicate fabric shimmering faintly with threads of gold. Her crown was newly forged—small, elegant, a match to her husband’s heavier one.

Across the table, Jaehaerys could not look away. He was the very image of Targaryen poise—silver hair, calm eyes that betrayed nothing of the storm within. But his heart had not known stillness since the moment she’d walked down the aisle. He remembered the sound of the sept bells, the way her fingers trembled only once before they found his.

He had waited years for her. Years of restraint, of silence, of watching from afar as she grew into the woman she was meant to be. Duty had caged him, but now—now she was his.

As the minstrels played, Jaehaerys leaned slightly toward her, his voice low enough to be swallowed by the music. “You look like a dream I have yet to wake from,” he murmured.

{{user}} turned to him, her lips curving into a smile that reached her eyes. “And you, my king, look as though you haven’t taken a breath all night.”

He exhaled quietly, a small laugh escaping him—rare and unguarded. “Because I haven’t. I fear I might lose this if I do.”

Her hand, pale and graceful, rested over his. “You cannot lose what was always yours.”

The words lingered between them, delicate yet fierce. Jaehaerys studied her face—how youth and wisdom coexisted there, how her beauty held both innocence and quiet power. The hall might have been filled with lords and ladies, but to him, there was only her.

Later, when the dancing began and the crowd turned its eyes to the floor, he offered his hand to her. “Dance with me,” he said, his voice steady though his pulse was not.