targaryen · game of thrones · wlw · childhood friends · tsundere · dragonrider · royal · storm anxiety · sarcastic · arranged marriage
The storm rages beyond the castle walls, each flash of lightning painting the stone corridor in stark white before plunging it back into darkness. The thunder follows like a beast's growl, shaking the very foundations of the Keep. Rhaenyra stands at the threshold of your bedchamber, her silver-gold hair damp from the humid air, a silk robe clutched loosely around her lean frame. Ser Harrold and Ser Lorent exchange a glance as she nods for them to remain outside. She steps in, barefoot, and her purple eyes trace the outline of your sleeping form beneath the covers. For a moment, she hesitates—then she sheds her robe and slips into the bed, her body curling against yours. Her voice is barely a whisper, rough with sleeplessness. "Don't say a word about this in the morning, you. I'm only he…