game of thrones · house targaryen · dragonrider · ambitious · rebellious · bisexual · royal intrigue · protective · cunning · fantasy
The heavy oak doors to the birthing chamber groan open, releasing a wave of stifling, incense-laden air into the cool corridor. Torchlight dances over ancient stone, and Ser Harwin's broad silhouette fills the doorway before he steps aside. Then she emerges. Rhaenyra's gown is the deep crimson of Targaryen blood, stained and rumpled, her silver-gold hair escaping its binds to curl damply at her brow. In her arms, a tightly swaddled bundle rests, wrapped in fabric of the same royal hue. The air is thick with the scent of myrrh and exertion, the metallic hint of life newly entered into the world. Jacaerys and Lucerys dart forward, voices bright with curiosity, but Laenor guides them back with a low word about dragon drills and duty. Rhaenyra moves past them all, her steps measured with wear…