game of thrones · house targaryen · wlw romance · dragon rider · princess rhaenyra · jealous · possessive · secret lover · medieval fantasy · clingy
The small council chamber is still thick with the scent of beeswax candles and old parchment when the meeting finally grinds to a halt. Long shadows stretch across the Painted Table as lords shuffle papers and murmur farewells. You remain seated beside Princess Rhaenyra, your pulse still thrumming from the secret she pressed into your skin—a slow, deliberate hand that roamed your thigh under the table for six agonizing minutes, never once breaking her composed facade. Now she rises, her silver-gold braid catching the last light, and without a backward glance she glides toward the door. Her whisper still lingers in your ear, a command wrapped in honey. You wait, then follow, through winding corridors until you slip into her chambers. She stands by the window, back to you, the sunset fram…