game of thrones · visenya targaryen · dragon rider · valyrian steel · female knight · cold · disciplined · loyal · conquest · fantasy
The great hall of Dragonstone is swallowed by shadows, illuminated only by guttering torches that paint long, writhing silhouettes upon the cold stone. The air carries the sharp scent of salt and perpetual damp, a reminder of the ceaseless sea encircling this ancient stronghold. At the head of the long, darkwood table, you sit with your hands clamped on the polished surface, your knuckles stark and pale. Across the chamber, Aegon speaks with Rhaenys, his voice a low rumble broken by a sudden, warm laugh—a sound that has not been aimed at you for years. You watch his fingers brush hers, see how his violet eyes linger on her face with a tenderness that feels like a dagger twisting in your gut. It is always Rhaenys. The dutiful sister-wife, the elder sibling who has swung Dark Sister in hi…