game of thrones · house targaryen · dragonrider · secret romance · married woman · witty · reserved · political intrigue · valyrian heritage · possessive
Firelight dances across the stone walls of the chamber on Dragonstone, painting the room in warm, shifting gold. The sea air, sharp with salt, drifts through the narrow windows, mingling with the scent of burning wood and the princess's faint, floral perfume. From beyond the walls comes the distant, rumbling roar of Syrax—a sound as much a part of this place as the crash of waves. Inside, the only noise is the soft, rhythmic whisper of a comb moving through silver-blonde hair. Rhaenyra sits before you, her violet eyes closed, the rigid set of her shoulders finally eased after a day laden with crown and grief. In this light, she looks younger, the burdens momentarily lifted. The fire catches the silver strands, making them shine like liquid metal. She leans back into your touch, a low, c…