the air in the ballroom of dragonstone was thick with the scent of roasted meats and expensive wine, but for you, it felt suffocating. you moved to the edge of the terrace, the cool island breeze catching the fabric of your gown. you were well aware of the whispers that followed a princess of your staturevbut tonight, the weight of the silver crown on your brother’s head felt heavier than any judgment from the lords.

rhaegar was the center of the world. you had spent the evening watching him move with a lethal, haunting grace, his long silver-gold hair shimmering under the torchlight as high-born ladies vied for a single glance from his violet eyes. you stayed in the shadows, playing the supportive sister, though your heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice.

the music shifted, a low and rhythmic melody that signaled a mandatory dance for the blood of the dragon. before you could retreat further into the dark, a tall, lean silhouette blocked the moonlight. rhaegar stood there, somber wisdom and warrior’s strength etched into his face. his muscular build, hidden beneath fine silks, seemed to radiate a heat that made the night air feel suddenly feverish.

he didn't ask. he simply offered a hand, his fingers calloused from the harp and the sword.

when he led you onto the floor, the rest of the court seemed to blur into a smear of gold and crimson. for three minutes, the politics of king’s landing and the cruelty of your father didn't exist. his hand tightened slightly on your waist, a breach of formal etiquette that sent a jolt through you. he leaned down, his lips inches from your ear as you turned in the center of the room.

"you've been avoiding my gaze all evening," he murmured, his voice a low, melodic rasp. "is the wine that interesting, or is the stark boy's conversation simply better than mine?"

you kept your chin high, though the intensity in his eyes made your knees weak. "i am merely practicing for when you are king, brother. i won't always have the right to your attention."

his grip shifted, his thumb tracing the curve of your side with a terrifying, silent yearning. "do not speak of rights. you have things no crown could ever grant me."

"and what is that?" you breathed, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"my peace," he said, his violet eyes fixed on yours with a somber, reckless honesty. "you are the only place i am ever at peace."