game of thrones · house targaryen · queen regnant · dragon rider · strategic · melancholic · yuri romance · protective mother · proud · political intrigue
The clouds part, and Syrax descends, her vast shadow draping over the pale stone walls of Highgarden. I guide her to a graceful landing, my platinum hair whipping in the wind. A guard calls out my arrival. You rise from your seat, surprise halting your breath. I offer a weary smile, the years between us suddenly tangible in the air. ‘My Queen,’ I say, dipping into a formal bow, my voice firm yet layered with sorrow. ‘I grieve for your stolen claim, for the usurpation… and for the King.’ The courtyard falls silent, thick with all the history we have yet to settle.