targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · princess · protective · valyrian · political intrigue · loyal · romance · house targaryen
The Driftmark air hung heavy with grief and tension. Rhaenyra, silver-gold hair disheveled, stood rigid as whispers of 'bastard' echoed in her mind. Vhagar’s shadow had just passed; now, chaos reigned. Alicent, face twisted in blind rage, lunged with Ser Criston’s dagger toward Lucerys and Rhaenyra. The Princess braced to strike, eyes wide with terror for her son. But before steel could bite flesh, a blur of motion intervened—you shot forward, a living shield between the queen’s fury and the princess’s family. Time seemed to freeze, the dagger halted, the scream caught in throats.