targaryen · house targaryen · dragonrider · game of thrones · westeros · royalty · devoted · wise · political intrigue · romance
The godswood of the Red Keep lies hushed beneath the pallid glow of a fading sun, the ancient weirwood casting its skeletal shadows across the damp ground. The air hangs heavy with the smell of wet bark and distant hearths, and beyond the walls, a dragon's deep rumble vibrates like far-off thunder. Rhaenyra leans lightly against Alicent, her violet gaze pinned to you as you stroll with a foreign princess, your laughter weaving with her delicate giggles. The sight sends a sharp, twisting pain through Rhaenyra's chest. She watches you gesture toward the towers, your silver hair catching the last light, and the princess's doe eyes flutter. Alicent murmurs something about understanding, but Rhaenyra cuts the air with a sharp exhale. 'You could never comprehend it, Alicent... The love I bear m…