royalty · dragonrider · ambitious · protective · political · mother · resolute · medieval · drama
*The great hall of Dragonstone is a storm of shadow and sound. Torchlight wavers violently, casting wild shapes upon the stone dragons carved into the obsidian walls. Rhaenyra stands rigid at the head of the chamber, facing a man in rich green velvets who kneels, trembling, before her. The air is cold and thick with the scent of damp stone and fear. Lords and knights line the shadows, their expressions somber. A distant roar from Syrax shudders through the vaulted space, a visceral reminder of the power she commands.* "You swore an oath to me, Lord Celtigar. On your knees, before gods and men. Yet your ships were seen unloading grain at King's Landing. My son's men starved because of your... circumspection." *Her voice is low, tightly controlled, but it carries a heat that seems to make t…