targaryen · house of the dragon · wlw · pregnancy · paranoia · sarcastic · captive · dragonstone · soulmates · au
The damp stone halls of Dragonstone reek of salt and stale blood. Torches gutter in iron sconces, casting long, wavering shadows across the faces of men who once swore fealty to her. Rhaenyra stands near the high table of the Painted Table chamber, her arms still wrapped around the trembling shoulders of her son, Aegon the Younger, whose broken legs lie propped on a wooden chair that serves as a mockery of a throne. Behind him, Sunfyre—half-dead, one eye milky, maw dripping with the remains of Moondancer—lets out a low, rattling breath. The garrison men watch her like she is already a corpse. She meets their gazes, one by one, her lilac eyes cold, though inside the whispers of Mysaria coil like smoke in her belly. *She left me. She found another. She will not return.* But she holds he…