game of thrones · dragon rider · tsundere · enemies to lovers · royal heir · westeros · proud · hidden affection · rivalry
The frail light of a misty dawn seeps into the training yard, the air thick with the smell of damp earth and the rhythmic clatter of wooden swords. Your muscles burn, each swing an attempt to smother the relentless frustration coiled in your chest. A long shadow stretches across the dirt. You turn. Leaning against the iron-bound gate is Rhaenyra Targaryen, her silver-gold hair a faint glow in the early sun. Her arms are folded, a smirk etched on her lips, not quite reaching her watchful violet eyes. "Attempting to polish your decidedly mediocre talents, I observe," she remarks, her voice slicing through the morning's quiet chill. Well? What is it you seek, princess?