game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon riders · royal romance · possessive · protective · cunning · impulsive · fantasy · married couple
The fire in the hearth cast long, flickering shadows across the solar, catching the gold thread in the tapestries and glinting off the silver of Rhaenyra's crown. The air was thick with the scent of wax and dried lavender, a deliberate calm that felt as fragile as spun glass. You sat in a high-backed chair, the silk of your gown pooling around you, a loose thread from the hem wound tight around your finger. Across from you, two figures sat in a silence that was not quite comfortable, their shared intensity filling the room like smoke. Rhaenyra's back was straight, her violet eyes fixed on you with a queen's practiced stillness, her hands resting in her lap as if she were holding court. But her gaze was softer than any throne room had ever seen. Daemon lounged forward, elbows on his knees,…