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Princess Rhaenyra appreciated the finer things in life. Silks and furs, embroidered gowns, the most exquisite jewelry. Willem had not yet seen her without at least a dozen gems decorating her person.
Even when visiting her dragon! Willem had never seen riding leathers with such intricate stitching and decorative clasps.
"My uncle's armor is far more ornate," Rhaenyra told him with a huff when he commented. Willem arched a brow. She turned back to Syrax, "A princess has no need of such things, of course."
"I prefer leather armor, more maneuverability," Willem told her, hands clasped behind his back as he smiled up at his betrothed's mount, "I doubt Syrax, as sweet as she is, would allow anyone close enough for you to need the steel."
Chuckling, Rhaenyra glanced over her shoulder. She honored him with a smile and Willem tried not to preen. Syrax tittered, head ducking low. Rhaenyra patted at her side and stepped away to allow her dragon to nudge at her body.
Willem took a step back, allowing the great golden beast her space. She growled and he stilled. In the next moment, Syrax turned her head.
She nosed at his chest. Willem held still, throat bobbing as her nostrils flared. Syrax chirped, nudging his head lightly.
"She approves," Rhaenyra grinned, giggling as Willem choked on his own laugh. Nervous as it was. Syrax returned her attention to the princess and he let out a breath.
"I didn't think anyone more formidable than my aunt..." Willem mumbled, exhaling slowly. "But you and your girl have proven that false, your grace," he shook his head, laughing softly, "I imagine even she might be intimidated, upon meeting the two of you."
Rhaenyra snorted, eyes rolling, "The only thing *formidable* about me is Syrax." At that, Willem arched a brow.
"I would think it a given that the Princess of Dragonstone is as strong and fearless as the dragon she rides," Willem spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. He pursed his lips, hand rising to fidget with his dagger, "I... I found you quite terrifying, in the Stormlands, and you didn't have Syrax then."
Ducking her head, Rhaenyra grazed a gentle hand over her dragon's scales. Syrax curled around them slightly as the princess snorted, "I cannot fathom why. You, at least, can defend yourself quite well." She gestured towards his belt, "You are never without a weapon."
Willem glanced towards Ser Criston. The kingsguard stood beside their chaperone, one of the queen's maids sent to watch over them. He took a step closer to the princess, slow and deliberate so as not to startle the dragon.
Their two minders remained visible, at least to him. He expected Rhaenyra was now blocked by pale gold scales. So long as they could see nothing improper was happening though, Willem imagined they would have no issue with him standing a bit closer.
"My only 'weapon' is Syrax," Rhaenyra confided in him, head ducking low as she brushed away unshed tears. She took a breath and looked up, smiling at her dragon, "And I cannot take you everywhere, can I?"
Syrax cooed at the princess. Their heads came together, Rhaenyra pressing her forehead to the dragon's scales as she inhaled. He'd imagined a dragon to be a bit like a horse, before. Only bigger. Many people created strong bonds with their mounts.
Now, Willem could not imagine any bond could be stronger than that between a dragon and their rider. Syrax and Rhaenyra seemed to breathe as one. Their eyes closing as Rhaenyra hummed a soft melody.
On their way back to the Red Keep, Willem broke off from the group to acquaint himself with the Street of Steel. It did not take him long to find a blacksmith willing to accept his commission, though it cost him more than it would have in the Riverlands.
The craftsmanship required was well worth the expense though, and he only had to wait a couple of weeks to present his gift to his betrothed. Rhaenyra's eyes lit up as he presented the dagger to her at breakfast.
"In my family, it is customary for the head of our house to gift a dagger to those they consider kin," Willem explained as she traced the designs worked into the metal.
A dragonscale texture over the sheath. The pommel of the short handle had the soften curves of a dragon's maw. Subtle, but still quite obvious, and Willem was pleased at how closely it resembled Syrax. He'd commissioned a golden chain, pale like her scales, for the blade to hang from.
"I thought it appropriate, to ensure my future queen is never without her most trusted protector," Willem finished, face flushing as Rhaenyra beamed at him.
She had a beautiful smile, and for the first time the full force of it was directed at him. Her violet eyes brightened, skin crinkling with joy as she drew the blade.
"Thank you, Willem," Rhaenyra exhaled. A breathy sigh that had his own breath catching. She rose from her sear, sheathing the blade once more. Soft lips pressed to his cheeks, "I cannot imagine a better gift."
He helped her to fit the chain around her waist, securing the blade at her hip. Rhaenyra brushed a hand down the front of her gown, fingers twitching over the textured sheath. Yet another fine jewel, accentuating the beauty of his princess. His betrothed.
Chest swelling with pride, Willem offered Rhaenyra his arm and ignored the whispers of the court as he led her from the Great Hall. Prince Daemon glared at him, but Willem was well accustomed to that. He couldn't help but smirk at the older man, as they passed by his seat.
"You realize, of course, that now you have to teach me to wield it, my lord?" Rhaenyra drawled, lacing their fingers together. He grinned. Head rising to meet her gaze, Willem chuckled.
"You realize, of course," Willem teased her, "That such lessons will provide me an excuse to spend more time with you, my princess?"
With a laugh, Rhaenyra ducked her head to his shoulder. A throat cleared behind them. The queen's maid arched a brow. Cole pursed his lips.
They separated to an appropriate distance, her hand resting loosely on his arm. Rhaenyra hummed. Her chin rose. A smirk twitched at her lips.
"You know... Syrax is big enough for two now," Rhaenyra quirked her head, one brow rising up as she looked at him, "...would my lord care for a morning flight perhaps?"
The maid audibly groaned when Willem agreed, but it was the queen who glared at him over dinner that night. Even more than Daemon.
Neither of them could dampen the warmth in his chest that had settled there the moment Syrax shrieked at seeing him. Her joy even more palpable than her rider's.
So long as the golden beast approved, the opinions of the rest of the royal family were inconsequential. Only her dragon knew Rhaenyra's heart after all, and Syrax kept nudging him closer to the princess so Willem knew he was doing something right.