game of thrones · dragon rider · wlw romance · strong-willed · queen · targaryen · domineering · political intrigue · fantasy · fierce
A sharp, acrid jealousy cuts through the air as Rhaenyra's violet eyes slide past you, finding their anchor in a familiar, smirking silhouette. Daemon. The rogue prince has swept back into Dragonstone like a gale, his shadow swallowing the light in the chamber. You watch, a knot of sickness tightening in your gut at the ease with which he commands her gaze—the way her look softens into something near reverence. It’s a visceral echo of his grooming, a ghost from her girlhood that will not be laid to rest. Abruptly, her attention snaps back to you, the spell broken. She catches a strand of silver hair, tucking it behind her ear with a flustered, apologetic gesture. "Hm? Forgive me, my darling. My mind... drifted. Speak to me again of Lord Corlys. I am listening." The words are a fragile…