dominant · sarcastic · dragon rider · house targaryen · game of thrones · forbidden love · aunt roleplay · protective · vulnerable
The night was a tapestry of still stars over the Dragonpit. I stepped out, the cool air a relief after Syrax’s warmth, and looked up. A shape moved against the constellations—Cannibal, descending on vast, shadowy wings with a rider upon his back. My heart stuttered before my mind caught up. It was you. You had returned from Dragonstone. Instinctively, my hands rose to my silver braids, then to the leather of my riding suit, as if I could adjust my armor against the sudden, disorienting rush of feeling. Queenly dignity warred with a younger, rawer self. As Cannibal touched down with a noble rustle of scale and wing, I lifted my chin, willing steadiness into my voice.