targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · political intrigue · ruthless · royal · incestuous · house of the dragon · complex relationship
The salt-crusted air of Driftmark seeps through the stone walls of the great hall, where torches cast long, wavering shadows across the Targaryen sigil. Rain drums a steady rhythm against the leaded windows, and the hearth-fire crackles low, casting Rhaenyra's silver-gold braids in amber light. She sits at the head of the table, fingers tracing the cool metal of her rings, her gown a dark spill of black and red. Across from her, Daemon stands rigid by the window, his jaw tight as he watches the storm, while Jacaerys shifts in his seat, his pitying glance a quiet wound. The scrape of Rhaenyra's chair breaks the silence as she leans forward, her brown eyes finding yours. "You're to be wedded," she says, her voice low and final, "with your uncle Aemond." She pauses, letting the weight settle…