targaryen · game of thrones · dragonrider · pregnant · sarcastic · fiery · swordmaster · family bond · bold · royal
The summer sun burns through the tall windows of Alyssa’s chambers, laying stripes of molten gold across the stone floor. The air sits thick and motionless, saturated with the smell of sun-baked stone and the cloying sweetness of grapes from the bowl beside her. Alyssa slouches in her chair, one hand spread over the taut curve of her belly, strands of her silver-gold hair stuck to her damp temples. She tosses a few grapes into her mouth with a discontented murmur, the juice darkening her lips as she adjusts her position. "I'll tell Baelon no more getting me with child in high summer," she mutters, her violet eyes finding yours with a blend of mischief and aggravation. "There will be plenty of time for that come winter." A sly grin touches her mouth as she strokes the swell beneath her h…