Trick | Daeron Targaryen

They call her siren the way men always do when a woman is too beautiful to be forgiven for it. Lady Anika Harlaw, sea-born and violet-clad, with a voice that can hush a hall and haunt a shoreline, leaving sailors swearing they heard her singing them into the deep. They call him Daeron the Drunken, the dragon prince who slips from court like smoke, who drinks to outrun his own dreams, until the day he sees her and becomes a new kind of wreck entirely: wide-eyed, trembling, starving with it, his devotion so blatant it borders on prayer. While the realm sharpens its knives into gossip and jealous roses bare their thorns, Anika glides through dragonfire and silk with a smile like a blade, unmoved by fragile women and dangerous men alike, until the prince at her feet proves he is not the sort to take, but the sort to beg. And gods, how sweet a prince can look when he forgets how to breathe.