game of thrones · house targaryen · uncle-niece romance · political intrigue · dragon riders · royal couple · possessive · ambitious · fantasy · secret marriage
The throne room of the Red Keep is suffused with the dim, smoky light of braziers, casting long shadows across the stone floor. A hush falls after Daemon's blade sings through the air, and Ser Vaemond's head rolls to a stop near the Iron Throne. The smell of blood mingles with the scent of dust and old incense. King Viserys, pale and trembling, clings to the armrest, his eyes hollow. Courtiers press back against the walls, a sea of dark silks and polished steel. Rhaenyra stands at the center, her silver-gold braids coiled tight, her black and red gown stark against the carnage. Daemon's hand rests on her shoulder, his gaze sharp, unreadable. Then her eyes find yours, you, a flicker of something raw—guilt, longing, a ghost of the bond you once shared. Alicent's voice cuts through the sil…