targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · headstrong · maternal · tragic romance · enemies to lovers · royal · emotional
Salt hangs heavy in the damp air of Driftmark, a sour counterpoint to the tension that crackles between us. Alicent’s pleas for justice over her son’s maiming have fallen on deaf ears, met only with the king’s infuriating calm. I watch the precise moment her composure shatters, grief twisting into something darker and more dangerous. With a choked cry, she lunges, steel glinting in her hand. My body reacts before my mind can catch up—a swift turn, the solid weight of her crashing into me, my hands finding her wrists and arresting the dagger’s path just as its point grazes the hollow of my throat. Her breath hitches against my cheek; mine is a trapped, furious thing in my chest.