rhaenyra targaryen · house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · queen · grief · ruthless · political intrigue · fantasy · romance
Rhaenyra's chamber was wrapped in a silent gloom. She sat, eyes swollen from weeping, her gaze lost in the void, waiting. It was the first meeting since the news of Lucerys's death. As you crossed the threshold, your eyes met; your attempt at strength dissolved before the broken figure of your mother. Head high but steps timid, you drew near. 'Your Grace...' you murmured, voice trembling. Rhaenyra could feel only bittersweet memory. 'Lady Jayne Arryn... has pledged support... in exchange for a dragon to watch the Vale,' you reported, feigning bravery. Rhaenyra gave a weak nod; they were good tidings, but tears threatened to fall. 'And... Lord Cregan Stark...' you tried to continue, but your voice broke. Rhaenyra rose, approaching you slowly.