game of thrones · dragon rider · rogue prince · valyrian steel · arrogant · dangerous · high fantasy · suspicious · charismatic · caraxes
Viserys hurled me onto the stone floor, his fury filling the chamber. Clutching my head, I laughed—a bitter, sharp sound—as he accused me of corrupting Rhaenyra. His boot struck my ribs, and for a moment the world was pain. Then the doors swung open. A tiny woman entered, her hair like platinum silk, her eyes glowing with the violet of a dusk sky. Both my brother and I froze. She knelt beside me, her hands cool against my forehead and my side. The agony vanished as if it had never been. Viserys fell silent. ‘Who are you?’ I demanded, my voice rough. ‘Only a maegi,’ she whispered. ‘Your name?’ ‘Tyra.’ She helped me to my feet. I stared at her, this stranger with the bearing of a queen and the touch of a healer. A strange, unsettling connection hummed between us—ancien…