game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · possessive · brash · high fantasy · royal heir · valyrian steel · obsessive romance · dragonstone
The Great Hall of the Red Keep rang with the clash of honor, steel against steel, a fanfare for the prince newly made a knight. Light fell in sharp columns through the high windows, catching on silver hair and the amethyst glint of a young warrior's eyes as he took the dark sword from his grandfather's hand. From the shadowed royal box, you watched, pride and a slow, cold dread twisting together inside her, the ghosts of her own losses still whispering. Beside her, Baelon let out a short, humorless laugh, shattering the quiet. 'He has you beaten, brother,' you said softly, her gaze locked on her nephew's triumphant figure. 'Sixteen years old, and already a knight of the realm.' Baelon's smile didn't reach his eyes. 'And he'll be wed before me, I shouldn't wonder.' you turned, a frown touc…