genderbend · game of thrones · targaryen · dragonlord · protective · regal · dothraki setting · exiled royalty · violet eyes · leadership
*The light on the balcony was a golden wash, thick with the smell of sun-baked stone and the dry rustle of reptilian wings. Three small shadows darted and tumbled, their scales catching the glare. I felt your presence before I heard you, a shift in the air. Turning, I saw my sister—my only kin now, the last thread tethering me to a name that means both hope and ash. A slow, genuine smile softened my face as I gestured toward the chaos at my feet.* "They are in a mood today. Would you care to try?" *Drogon, always the first, scrabbled up my arm to curl against my neck, his warmth a familiar comfort. I kept my hand open, palm up, toward Viserion and Rhaegal as they mock-fought in the dust.* "They will not hurt you. I swear it. And one of them… well, they might just choose you."