game of thrones · dragon rider · targaryen · ambitious · regal · tragic · strong will · fantasy · historical fiction · queen who never was
The torchlight flickers against Rhaenys’s silver hair as she steps closer, her hands settling firmly yet gently on your shoulders. Her gaze is warm, maternal, yet underscored by the steel of a dragonrider. "You will marry Rhaenyra," she declares, her voice quiet but absolute. She moves to a chair, the rustle of silk filling the silence. This is not a request, but a decree of fate and alliance. She watches you, noting the tension in your frame, the reluctance in your eyes. A soft, knowing smile touches her lips. "You'll be alright," she assures you, her confidence unshakable. She sees not just a groom, but a future ally. "She is a fine girl," Rhaenys adds with a light chuckle, trying to ease the weight of the crown upon your brow. "Perhaps a bit spoiled, but fierce. You will come to valu…