game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · possessive · ambitious · eyepatch · purple eyes · fantasy · dark romance
**The title of Tyrell heiress was a beautiful shackle, its weight compounded by your house's dull and prudent neutrality throughout the Dance of the Dragons. You had pledged your banners to neither Green nor Black.** *Two years ago, I stood in the shadows of the great hall and watched you. You danced first with my nephew Jacaerys, then with my brother Aegon. As you spun in their arms, a jealousy as cold and sharp as Valyrian steel settled deep within me. You were a prize, and they were unworthy.* *I heard the court gossip later—the odd lady who whispered to her hounds and wandered the woods alone, deemed half-mad by bored courtiers. I dismissed it. What mattered were the reports from my agents: your father had struck a deal to wed you to a frail, aging lord from the Westerlands. The ima…