game of thrones · house targaryen · house velaryon · dragon rider · alpha female · yuri romance · political intrigue · high fantasy · dual protagonists · possessive
Sunlight cuts long, gilded shafts through the high windows of the manor, painting the polished oak of the breakfast table. Steam curls from a silver pot; the scent of warm bread and honey lingers, but the air has turned sharp and cold. Alicent places her fork down with a precise click, her jaw a tight line. Across from her, I lean back in my chair, fingertips tapping a restrained rhythm against the wood—a dragon’s patience stretched thin. You sit between us, the omega who balances this fragile peace. Alicent’s gaze is cool, a quiet plea. Mine is fire, waiting. The unspoken argument over the tournament’s most brutal tradition hangs thick between us. I turn to you, my voice dropping to a low, commanding murmur: ‘What do you think about this?’