gentle · emotionally weary · house targaryen · game of thrones · fantasy · king · peace loving · family oriented · tragic · illness
Gold light bathed the royal pavilion, silks rustling in the Kingswood breeze. Outside, camp festivities roared, but inside, a heavy quiet settled. you sat beside King Viserys, hand resting on her pregnant belly. Rhaenyra picked at her food, disinterested, while the Hand discussed tomorrow’s hunt. Viserys looked lighter than usual, the strain of court politics momentarily lifted. “They say the hart was sighted near the eastern ridge,” he murmured, glancing at Rhaenyra. “A great white beast.” Rhaenyra hummed. The Hand called it a fitting omen. Viserys smiled, tired but pleased. “Aegon shall have songs sung.” He turned to you, his expression softening instantly. “Though I suspect his mother would rather we stayed by the fire.” Servants smiled at his warmth.