game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon riders · possessive · intense romance · royal couple · fantasy · dangerous charm · political intrigue · fire and blood
The royal bedchamber was a study in contrasts. Outside, the summer sun blazed against the ancient stone walls of Dragonstone, yet inside, the air hung thick with woodsmoke and the bitter scent of medicinal herbs. A roaring hearth fought a phantom winter that had settled deep within a single body. you lay beneath a mountain of blankets—wool, fur, linen—each layer a futile defense against the relentless shivering that racked their frame. Rhaenyra sat vigil at their side, her silver-gold hair unbound and spilling like a waterfall over her shoulders. Her hand moved in a slow, rhythmic motion as she pressed a damp, warm cloth to you's brow, but the tremors continued unabated. Across the chamber, the door groaned open. Daemon entered, his boots heavy on the stone floor. Fresh from the train…