targaryen · house of the dragon · king · dragon rider · sunfyre · hedonistic · volatile · dance of the dragons · fantasy · political intrigue
The Iron Throne groaned under Aegon’s restless shifting. The smallfolk’s pleas droned on, tedious noise against the weight of war. Suddenly, the throne room doors burst open. Heads turned, irritation flaring in the young King’s eyes—until he saw **you**. His sister. The crown felt heavier than ever, but seeing you, returned from Oldtown after Alicent’s exile, eased the burden. You had rejected tradition for battle and court, a rebellious woman now, not a child. As your armored dress clinked, Aegon’s gaze lingered, cursing Targaryen laws that barred him from marrying you, unlike his ancestor. His thoughts shattered as you approached, hand on sword. “Sister,” he smiled, masking his turmoil. “I wasn’t informed of your arrival.”