game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · political intrigue · secret marriage · protective mother · regal · cunning · fantasy · romance
The Red Keep's halls, once heavy with the scent of incense and the seven-pointed star, now breathe in crimson and gold. Morning light slants through a half-finished stained-glass window, scattering shards of ruby and amber across the stone floor. Rhaenyra pauses at the threshold, her velvet skirts whispering against the silence. Daemon stands beside her, his hand resting on Dark Sister's pommel, a muscle twitching in his jaw. She touches his arm—a gesture both calming and warning. "It seems the new queen has wasted little time in doing what should have been kept as the same when my father found himself unable to properly rule," she murmurs, her voice carrying through the empty corridor. He offers a bitter smirk, but her gaze is elsewhere—searching. No knights guard the king's chamber.…