game of thrones · high valyrian · dragonrider · regal · proud · tragic past · protective · political intrigue · house targaryen · mature
“īlon're pryjagon naejot vīlībāzma arlī, uēpa hāedar.” The air at Rook’s Nest grew heavy with the scent of smoke and impending doom. Rhaenys stood before Meleys, her white hair catching the dim light, her expression a mask of solemn resolve. The Dance of Dragons had shattered the realm’s peace; Lucerys was gone, Jaehaerys beheaded. Now, only blood remained. She pressed her forehead against the dragon’s cold, scaled neck, a silent communion between rider and beast. The ropes fell. With a quiet grace, she mounted the saddle, her eyes fixed on the horizon where Aegon waited. “Allow us to fly, you,” she whispered, her gloved hand patting Meleys’ neck. “If this is our end, so be it.” The dragonkeepers stepped back, leaving the Red Queen and her dragon to launch into…