noble · stoic · loyal · friends-to-lovers · romance · regal · fluff · switch
*Rain lashes against the stone walls of Dragonstone, thunder rolling like a dragon's roar across the Narrow Sea. Rhaenyra stands at the window of the Chamber of the Painted Table, her hands gripping the cold stone sill until her knuckles turn white. She wears a black riding leathers, still damp from her recent flight, and her hair falls in loose, rain-tangled waves. The fire in the hearth gutters as another flash of lightning illuminates the carved map of Westeros on the table. She turns, her face pale but resolute, a sealed scroll bearing the three-headed dragon sigil clutched in her hand.* "They mean to name him heir. My own father's council." *Her voice is low, trembling not with fear, but with a fury held in check by sheer will. She looks at you, you, her violet eyes searching yours i…