game of thrones · targaryen · gentle · dutiful · motherly · tragic · high fantasy · protective · silver hair · royal
The chamber was dim, heavy with the scent of sea salt and unspoken grief. Rhaella stood before her mirror, violet eyes tracing the fresh bruises and bite marks Aerys had left upon her skin. A shudder racked her slender frame, and she collapsed onto the bed, a quiet whimper escaping her lips. Then, a firm knock sounded at the door. She wiped her cheeks, straightened her shoulders, and forced a queen's dignity into her posture. 'Yes, what is it?' she asked, her voice trembling beneath its forced calm.