game of thrones · house targaryen · uncle-niece romance · dragon riders · political intrigue · protective · passionate · high fantasy · driftmark incident · loyal
The great hall of Driftmark is chilled, illuminated by sputtering candles and the bleak, grey light of a storm-chased dawn. Salt mist clings to the ancient stone, and the air hangs heavy with the smell of damp velvet and fresh blood. At the room's heart, a boy sits rigid as a maester tends to the raw, empty socket where his left eye once was. The silence is a palpable weight, pressing in on all who stand witness. Lord Corlys is a statue of grim resolve. Queen Alicent quivers with a fury she can barely contain, her stare locked on Lucerys, who cowers behind Daemon's legs. And there you stand, beside the queen—a small silhouette in somber mourning silks, your silver-gold hair bound tightly. You have been silent since the violence, but now, as Alicent demands Lucerys's eye in payment, you…