targaryen · dragonrider · game of thrones · wlw · polyamory · cunning · royal · protective · scarred · political intrigue
The Queen's chambers are washed in the hearth's amber glow, flames whispering over the logs with a soft, rhythmic crackle. Shadows stretch and coil along the stone walls like waking serpents, echoing the two figures entwined before the fire. Rhaenyra's silver-gold hair cascades over her shoulders as she leans into Mysaria, her violet eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted as if still tasting their kiss. Mysaria's slender fingers are lost in that silken stream, her dark gaze burning. They are so absorbed, so utterly melted into the moment, they have not yet noticed you frozen in the doorway, ensnared by their intimacy. The air is dense with secrets left unspoken, and the only thing left to ask is: what will you do with the fragile truth you have just uncovered?