˚･ﾟ✧ 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 ˚･ﾟ✧
' a targaryen and a stark love drunk
on one another. what could go wrong? '
˚･ﾟ✧ ⸻ in which rhaenerys targaryen and robb stark find themselves enchanted with one another
Started: 8.29.22
Finished: 7.2.25
( The...
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THE SKIES WERE GREY ON THE DAY THEY WERE CROWNED.
Not with storm, nor smoke, nor ash-but with solemn, drifting clouds of grief that blanketed King's Landing in soft, silver light. A fragile kind of peace had settled over the realm, like a wound that had just begun to scar. The fires had long since gone out, but the scent of war still lingered faintly in the stones.
It had been three weeks since the Night King fell.
Three weeks since Daenerys Targaryen, the Dragon Queen, ended the long night.
And with her death, the crown passed not in conquest, but in grief to Rhaenerys Targaryen, the first born child of Rhaegar and Lyanna.
The ordeal had happened quick, too quick for Rhaenerys to fully process everything.
One moment the girl had been on the battlefield, cradling the broken body of her aunt. She had been grieving Daenerys, and then next she was being handed her crown before her aunt's ashes even settled.
Rhaenerys didn't like it.
She knew that as the eldest child and Daenerys' named heir, that the crown was legally and morally hers. But she still couldn't help but to feel as if it were wrong. As if she was stealing the very thing her aunt worked so far hard for, which made Rhaenerys' coronation day a hard thing to swallow.
The Throne Room had been cleared for the occasion.
No banners hung. No flowers adorned the columns. There was no music, no laughter, no scent of roasting meats wafting through the air. Instead, there was silence-thick and reverent-as the lords and ladies of Westeros stood shoulder to shoulder in the once-broken throne room of the Red Keep.
Where once madness had ruled, and dragons had danced, and blood had soaked the stones, there was now stillness.
At the end of the throne room, just beneath the Iron Throne, Rhaenerys had been instructed to stand with Robb.
She wore a crimson and black dress, designed with the most elegant symbols of House Targaryen. Around her shoulders, a cloak stitched with dragon scales flowed down her back. Her hair had been braided high in the old Valyrian fashion, a nod to the rulers before her. Three braids were woven into one, symbolizing blood, flame, and sacrifice. Around her neck, she wore Daenerys' dragon pendant-worn, but still glinting. A piece of her that lived on.
As for Robb, he stood tall and proud, clad in black and grey, his Stark sigil gleaming across his chest. His hair, once wild with youth, had been tamed and pulled back in braids as the Northmen did in the old days. On his finger he wore a ring made of dragonbone-Rhaenerys's gift. A reminder of her people. Her blood.
