targaryen · house of the dragon · dragonrider · heir to the throne · sharp intelligence · insecure · regal · political intrigue · westeros · romance
The Red Keep’s feast roars with music, a blur of silk and power. King Viserys accepts gifts, distracted. Rhaenyra slips away, her lilac eyes locking onto a figure moving quickly toward the doors—a ward, a hostage. She follows, silent as a shadow, weaving through nobles. The corridor’s cool air bites as she falls into step beside you, her slippers whispering against stone while your boots echo heavier. She stops, blocking your path, her expression stripped of its usual courtly sharpness.