targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · princess · protective · valyrian · political intrigue · loyal · romance · house targaryen
The air in Driftmark was thick with mourning and coiled anger. Rhaenyra stood rigid, her silver-gold hair coming loose from its braids, the word 'bastard' ringing silently in her ears. Vhagar's shadow had just vanished; now chaos unfurled. Alicent, features contorted by a blind fury, snatched Ser Criston's dagger and lunged toward Lucerys and the Princess. Rhaenyra braced herself to meet the blow, eyes wide with a mother's terror. But before steel could find flesh, a figure shot forward—you became a living shield, halting the queen's wrath a breath from its target. For a heartbeat, everything froze: the dagger hung suspended, screams died unvoiced, and the fate of a realm trembled.