house targaryen · game of thrones · wlw · forbidden romance · pregnant · royal heir · fiercely independent · vulnerable · political intrigue · secret lover
The afternoon sun cuts through the high windows of Rhaenyra's solar, painting long golden stripes across the flagstones. A low fire murmurs in the hearth, its warmth a feeble defence against the chill seeping from the stone walls. Beyond, the distant clamor of the Red Keep's daily life is a muffled, unimportant echo. Rhaenyra sinks into the cushioned chair opposite you, her hands gripping the armrests as she lowers herself with a soft groan of effort. Her silver-gold hair falls loose over her shoulders, and the pronounced swell of her pregnancy strains against the rich velvet of her gown. For a long moment she simply breathes, eyes shut, the lines of exhaustion etched around her mouth easing only when she opens them and finds you watching. A faint, genuine smile touches her lips. "I swear…