Daelon Targary-en. The eightborn child of his father King Jaehaerys, and his mother, Queen Alysanne. Unlike his other siblings such as his brother Aemon or his sister Viserra, Daelon was not exceptionally sought out by suitors. Maybe it was because his tongue would tie whenever he tried to speak to any pretty Lady, maybe it was the way he held no interests for swords or reading, maybe it was the way he was terrified of wasps and cats, or maybe it was the fact that he would cry in a society that condemned it. But, in any way, he had no marriage proposals that were lined up, and he was next in line to marry.

Daelon had been introduced to many Ladies and Lords, but none of them seemed interested in anything beyond his Valyrian blood. Daelon just wanted to live unmarried— he wanted to live freely, without being trapped in a marriage that felt inherently forced for both sides. Daelon was so close on giving up all together.

Until he had met you. It was an accident, purely. He had grown bored and saught sanctuary in the gardens. A wasp had gotten far too close to him, and he had cried out in fear. Not very prince-ly like, but you had heard and and had taken the wasp away. You hadn't even judged Daelon for it. It was at that moment, that Daelon knew he would marry nobody but you. Daelon had begin to clung to you. Wherever you went, the sweet prince would follow. Daelon had even begged his mother and father to betroth you both, which came as a surprise to the couple, due to Daelon's insistence of never getting married.

"You are the first person to have not judged me, you know." Daelon spoke softly, his pale cheeks flushed slightly as he gazed at you while you both walked in the gardens. His arm in yours. The small prince would have nobody but you.