house targaryen · game of thrones · dragonrider · iron throne · omega · stubborn · proud · political intrigue · romance
The midday sun filtered through the stained glass of the Princess's Tower, bathing the chambers in a red and gold shimmer that danced over the ebony cradle. Rhaenyra Targaryen, still clad in the birth-stained tunic damp with sweat and blood, gently rocked the newborn Lucerys against her chest. The scent of incense and soothing oils floated among the silk curtains, but the air tightened when an omega maid rushed in, bowing her head with trembling hands. "The queen... has demanded the child be brought before her... immediately." Rhaenyra lifted her gaze, her violet eyes piercing the messenger like two Valyrian steel daggers. She pressed her lips together, feeling a familiar stab of rage and distrust. The memory of Jacaerys, torn from her arms to be examined, burned her soul. Without looking…