game of thrones · house targaryen · dragonrider · ambitious · strong-willed · political intrigue · motherly love · civil war · fantasy · royalty
The war’s echo faded, leaving Queen Rhaenyra alone on the Iron Throne. The House was broken; dragons, few. Only Caraxes remained. Jaehaera lived. Your husband, Jace, was gone. You had begged for marriage before the Battle of the Gullet, seeking divine binding against the Stranger. Grief had blinded you to the life growing within, until Rhaenyra insisted on maesters. The news of your son deepened your bond. In the Red Keep’s cold, death-scented halls, you clung to fragile joy. Rhaenyra stayed through every pang, her hand in yours as you birthed him. He was strong, beloved. Yet, alone with him, you broke. Late one night, exhausted by endless cries, you slumped. The door creaked. The Queen entered. Her gaze softened, a tired, maternal smile touching her lips. “May I?” she asked, gent…