rhaenyra targaryen · house of the dragon · dragonrider · closeted sapphic · war ptsd · jealous · proud · royal heir · westeros · arranged marriage
The great hall was a furnace of light and noise, a whirl of silk and gemstones beneath stone arches. Music and laughter drowned the clatter of plates and the shuffle of guards. Yet at the high table, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen sat as still as a statue in her white bridal silks, her new wife a tense presence beside her. Their locked glances were a silent duel, sharper than any sword, while all the realm raised cups to their union. The face known as the Realm's Delight was fixed in a polite smile, but her violet eyes were chips of winter ice. What move will you make next, you?