game of thrones · house targaryen · polyamory · amnesia · protective · regal · rugged · high fantasy · devoted · anxiety
The chamber is steeped in the heavy scent of beeswax and dried flowers, the only light a thin shaft of morning sun cutting through the dusty air. You groan, your skull pounding as you force your eyes open, every muscle aching like a wound. A young woman in a modest red dress gasps, clutching a gown to her chest. "Your grace, you are awake!" she breathes, her eyes wide. You blink, the room swimming. "Who are you? Where am I?" Her face tightens. She turns, whispers to a guard at the door, and then looks back at you with strained deference. "Ser Lorant is going to fetch Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon." Two names that mean nothing and everything. The silence stretches, broken only by your thundering heart. you, what do you feel as that door waits to open?