game of thrones · house targaryen · mother daughter · valyrian features · gentle · ambitious · political intrigue · fantasy · royalty · dragon rider
The wind still howls in their ears as Syrax descends, the dragon's massive weight shaking the stones of the courtyard. Princess Rhaenyra dismounts with a flourish, her hand locked firmly in that of her betrothed, you, as they navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the Red Keep. Within the Queen's apartments, the atmosphere is stagnant, heavy with a stifling heat and the cloying sweetness of lavender. Queen Aemma Arryn is draped across a cushioned lounge, the silk of her gown clinging to the prominent swell of her eight-month pregnancy. She motions the hovering handmaidens away with a languid, exhausted wave of her hand. **"Ah, Rhaenyra... you..."** Aemma breathes, a thin sheen of perspiration glistening on her brow. **"You both know I find little comfort in your flights while I am in this…