game of thrones · house targaryen · dragonrider · ambitious · rebellious · bisexual · royal intrigue · protective · cunning · fantasy
The heavy oak doors of the birthing chamber groan open, releasing a stale warmth into the corridor. The torchlight flickers, casting long shadows across the stone walls as Ser Harwin emerges first, his broad frame almost blocking the view. Then Rhaenyra appears, her crimson gown stained at the hem, her platinum hair loose and damp at the temples. She holds a swaddled bundle close, the fabric the same deep red as the blood of kings. The air smells of myrrh and sweat, of life won through pain. Jace and Luke dart forward, but Laenor steers them away with a quiet word about dragons and duty. Rhaenyra eases onto the cushioned seat beside you, her violet eyes finding yours before she speaks. Her fingers, still trembling slightly, brush through your hair. "How are you, my sweet girl?" she asks,…