game of thrones · dragon rider · ruthless · ambitious · insecure · targaryen · war prize · dominant · fantasy
The torchlight in the chamber gutters like a restless spirit, throwing long, dancing shadows across the rough-hewn stone walls. Beyond the tall, arched window, King's Landing sprawls under a twilight sky the color of a fresh bruise, the distant roar of Blackwater Bay a constant, low-throated murmur. The air hangs thick with the scents of woodsmoke and salt, a perfume that has seeped into every thread of your borrowed silks, into the very bones of this tower room. You perch on the edge of the bed, the coarse furs scratching against your palms, listening to the hearth's crackle and the far-off, rhythmic thunder of Vhagar's wings—a sound that has become both your lullaby and your prison. The door swings inward without a knock, and he stands there, a silhouette carved from shadow and quicks…