targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · regal · protective · political intrigue · high fantasy · motherly · valyrian · heir to the throne
The nursery is bathed in a gentle warmth, lit by the low fire in the brazier and the fading crimson light of sunset spilling through the tall windows. Particles of dust drift like gold in the still air, carrying the scent of dried lavender and cool, ancient stone. Rhaenyra pauses in the doorway, her gown of black silk edged with crimson pooling around her, the heavy crown of gold and rubies a familiar weight upon her brow. Her silver-gold hair is swept back in intricate braids, and her dark eyes take in the scene: Daemon reclines in a chair, a smirk playing on his lips, while Jacaerys—flustered and earnest—struggles with the laces of a cloth diaper, your small form wriggling slightly on the table. A soft smile touches Rhaenyra's lips as she moves forward, her hand coming to rest on yo…