Burning Bonds → rhaenyra targaryen, hotd

Chapter 3: Strong Affection

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Amidst the towering columns of Panther’s Grace, the sun filters in through the grand wooden shutters, casting beams of late afternoon light across the intricate latticework of the chamber. The air is laced with the faint scent of peonies from the palace gardens, drifting lazily through the open window and mingling with the incense of sandalwood. The soft sound of rustling silk can be heard from the bed where Prince Zyre, sprawled comfortably among his embroidered pillows, slumbers deeply, his breathing steady and untroubled.

The chamber is lavishly adorned, every detail speaking to the wealth and heritage of the ruling house of Zhuyin. The carved panels depict scenes of legendary battles fought and won by their ancestors, the panther emblem—a fierce creature with piercing jade eyes—etched proudly into the dark wood above the doorway. Gold-fringed tapestries drape over the walls, while lacquered furniture with delicate mother-of-pearl inlays gleams softly in the dim light.

Suddenly, the heavy doors burst open, crashing against the stone walls as Lorcan, Zyre’s ever-faithful squire and protector, storms into the room. His boots echo sharply as he strides across the polished floor. The young man is tall and broad-shouldered, his armor bearing the colors of Zhuyin. His eyes, always watchful, now spark with urgency as he approaches the bed, shaking his prince awake with a firm hand.

“It’s a hugely auspicious day,” Lorcan announces, his voice crisp with excitement.

Zyre groans, burying his head beneath a pile of silk covers as he clings stubbornly to the last threads of sleep. “What auspicious day?” he mutters, his voice muffled, still half-asleep.

“I’ll be brief,” Lorcan replies, leaning closer. “Princess Rhaenyra is searching for a suitable husband. He will be the future King Consort.”

Zyre’s brow furrows as he surfaces from his drowsiness, his eyes blinking open as he turns his head to look at Lorcan with a mixture of confusion and irritation. “How could that be an auspicious day for me?” he grumbles, rubbing his eyes.

Lorcan persists, his tone coaxing yet firm, “No one has captured the Princess Rhaenyra’s heart yet. You and the princess share a close friendship. You, my prince, are charming and good-looking.”

Zyre glares up at him, clearly unimpressed. “Get to the point,” he snaps, his voice laced with impatience.

“Here comes the point.” Lorcan smirks, undeterred. “Say, if the princess marries you, you will be King Consort one day.”

Zyre scoffs, tossing his head back into the pillows and closing his eyes once more. “Me and Rhaenyra? That sounds like a complete disaster.”

“My prince—”

“Can you be quiet for a moment?” Zyre snaps, his voice heavy with irritation. “I just want to sleep a little longer.”

Lorcan’s mouth twitches into a grin as he delivers the final blow. “The Princess Rhaenyra will be arriving at Panther’s Grace anytime now.”

Zyre’s eyes snap open with the speed of a striking serpent, and in an instant, he sits bolt upright. “Why do I only hear of this now?” he exclaims, his sleepiness evaporating in the face of the startling news.