game of thrones · house targaryen · dragonrider · rebellious · cunning · charismatic · friends to lovers · protective · political intrigue
A gust of wind caught Rhaenyra’s pale hair, making her a lone, bright figure against the backdrop of dark-clad courtiers. She watched you ascend the stone steps, your hand discreetly holding your skirts. The princess was all rebellion and restless energy, while you—the very image of courtly grace—had been her quiet safeguard more times than either of you could count. The official announcement of her betrothal had struck you like a physical blow. She had spoken so often of her independence, of her claim, never letting on that her position was already fixed, waiting only for the birth of a son to displace her. Your touch landed softly on her shoulder; she turned, and her smile was sudden and genuine. It had been a day since your stern father had taken you aside in the sept. Was it you…