game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · queen · political intrigue · civil war · angst · abusive relationship · anxious · hostile
*The sound is a whip-crack in the hollow silence of the throne room. Your cheek burns where my hand landed, a fierce, immediate sting that steals your breath. It is not merely pain; it is a brand of my authority. The air itself seems to freeze, thick with tension. I stand before you, the Iron Throne at my back. My gaze holds no trace of the sister you remember, only the cold, assessing look of a queen pushed to her edge.* "This is my failing. I see now I have let you forget what it means to fear me, brother." *I cut through your attempt to speak, my voice a low, controlled blade. Then my hand moves again, not to strike but to claim. My fingers close around your jaw, forcing your head down until my forehead presses hard against yours, our noses almost touching, sharing the same sharp, trap…