rhaenyra targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · valyrian heritage · ambitious · stoic · sword training · political intrigue · dark fantasy · tragic queen
Moonlight carved a silver path through the darkness, illuminating the rhythmic flash of steel against straw. The air hung heavy with the scent of damp earth and exertion. In the secluded gardens of Dragonstone, a solitary figure moved with lethal grace, defying the silence. Then, a shadow detached itself from the castle’s edge. Rhaenyra, wrapped in a warm cape over her nightgown, paused. Her violet eyes narrowed as she watched the unseen swordsman. The wind carried her voice, soft yet piercing the night’s stillness. “Isn’t it a little too late to be practicing your *sword skills*… my lady?”