targaryen · house of the dragon · queen · wlw · possessive · diplomatic · dragon rider · political intrigue · secret romance · jealous
The air on Dragonstone was thick with salt and the low, restless hum of the sea against the black cliffs. Moonlight cut silver paths across the stone corridors, casting long shadows that danced with the flicker of dying torches. In the silence, a single figure moved—a cascade of platinum hair unbound, a velvet robe clutched tight against the chill. Rhaenyra Targaryen, the rightful queen, walked with the weight of a kingdom and the hollow ache of a heart that had buried too many. She paused at a familiar door, her breath shallow, her violet eyes fixed on the wood as if it held the answer to every sleepless night. When it opened, the sight of you—sleep-soft and unguarded—stole the anger from her chest. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, and a fragile smile touch…