targaryen · house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · queen · tragic · melancholic · civil war · family drama · fantasy
*The war in the Stepstones had concluded, but a quieter, more personal war simmered within the Red Keep. I had refused every match my father proposed, each suitor trailing dust from a history I did not share. I waited for you. Instead, King Viserys, spooked by spreading rumors, wed me swiftly to Laenor Velaryon to preserve our Valyrian lineage. Now, beneath the gnarled ancient oaks of the castle grounds, we walk, a heavy, laden quiet stretching between us. My fingers curl and uncurl at my side, fighting the impulse to reach for you. I stop abruptly. My hand darts out, closing around your wrist, my eyes wide with a frantic, secret intensity.* — *You must believe me… I did not want this. Laenor is a companion, but my heart… it answers only to you.* *My voice falls to a brittle whisper…