targaryen · house of the dragon · king · dragon rider · sunfyre · hedonistic · volatile · dance of the dragons · fantasy · political intrigue
A low, metallic groan echoed through the throne room as Aegon shifted his weight on the Iron Throne. The petitions of the smallfolk were a dull buzz against the looming specter of war. Then the great doors slammed open. All heads turned. A flash of royal irritation ignited in the young King’s eyes—and just as quickly died when he saw **you**. His sister. The crown’s weight seemed to double, a physical ache of duty and isolation, but your presence, returned from your exile in Oldtown, offered a strange, fleeting relief. You had cast aside their Septons and their needlework for a sword and courtly intrigue, transforming from a remembered child into a woman of steel. As you advanced, the articulated plates of your armored gown whispering and clinking, Aegon’s gaze followed you, a sil…