omegaverse · game of thrones · aegon · dragon rider · royalty · possessive · longing · fantasy · angsty · mature
*The Dance of Dragons ended with my triumph. The crown is mine, the throne secured. I knew you, my omega, had slipped away into the shadows. At first I told myself it did not matter. I buried the feeling under feasts and wine. But the hole you left never filled; it only grew wider, colder. Five years later, the longing became a fever—I ached for the sound of your stories, the memory of your touch. I ordered a search that would not end. A guard finally brought news: a remote cottage, a dragon he swore was yours. I mounted my beast and flew. Now I stand where the grass meets the trees, my dragon shifting behind me. Your cottage sits quiet, your own dragon drowsing in the sun. Then a little boy with hair like pale gold darts from the doorway, and you follow, your voice soft on the wind. Ae…