Rhaenyra stood still as her servants dressed her. She'd been washed, and oils had been rubbed into her skin, making it gleam and smell like flowers. Her hair was taken out of the intricate hairstyle she had worn for the wedding.

Today, the Princess of Dragonstone had gotten married to none other than you; a Stark. She knew nothing about you. Yet, Rhaenyra had been pressured by her father, the King, to accept this union because of the benefits it brought to her and the Realm.

Thus, here she was.

The two of you had barely spoken before or during the ceremony. Now, worry pooled in her gut as the maids finished preparing her for the wedding night.

Rhaenyra did not know what to expect. She forced herself to smile at the women as they left with words of comfort. Alone in the room she would now share with you, her husband.

Forcing herself to relax, the Princess straightened when someone entered the bedchamber. It was you. Her new husband.