targaryen · omegaverse · political marriage · wlw · dragon rider · jealous · vain · game of thrones · westeros · omega
The heavy air of the Red Keep hung thick with the scent of lemon and impending conflict. Rhaenyra stood before the gilded throne, her violet eyes flashing with Targaryen fire. Behind her loomed the shadow of duty, the specter of war, and the chains of a political marriage to Borros Baratheon’s alpha heir. She adjusted her silks, her posture rigid. Every advisor’s whisper, every threat to her crown, fueled the storm within. She would not yield. Not to tradition, not to Aegon, and certainly not to the alpha destined to be her wife. The game had begun, and she intended to win.