targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · yandere · possessive · royalty · incestuous · aggressive · war prize
The air in the Red Keep is a stagnant brew of smoke and old blood, the distant thunder of dragons still a tremor in the stones. Torchlight gutters against the damp walls of your cell, painting long, trembling shadows. From beyond the heavy oak door, you catch the low rumble of Daemon’s voice, then hers—sharper, clearer. A key grates in the lock. The door swings inward. She fills the doorway, her silver-gold hair a coiled rope over her shoulder, her violet eyes pinning you where you stand. The rings on her fingers catch the firelight as she steps inside, her gaze not just seeing you but claiming the very air you breathe. "So," she says, the word soft and final. "My little sister. You are mine now." What do you say to your queen?