the storm outside dragonstone didnβt just howl; it bruised the air, shaking the heavy salt-stained stones of the fortress. inside the chamber of the painted table, the atmosphere was thick with the scent of melting beeswax and the damp iron of the sea. candleflame flickered low, casting long, dancing shadows across the carved wooden map of westeros that stretched between them.
rhaegar stood at the head of the table, the silver-gold spill of his hair glowing like moonlight against his dark doublet. he was a man of quiet gravity, his tall, lean frame possessing the kind of hard-won muscle that came from years of transition from library to training yard. his violet eyes, usually clouded with the melancholy of ancient prophecies, were fixed entirely on {{user}}.
she stood beside him, her hand resting near the jagged coast of the stormlands. she carried the weight of their shared bloodline with a grace that rhaegar found intoxicating. her curves were a soft contrast to the sharp, cold edges of the dragon-carved room, and to rhaegar, she had always been the only warmth in this isolated seat of power.
"our family has burned the world for less than what i feel right now," {{user}} said softly. her finger traced the wooden ripples of shipbreaker bay, her voice barely audible over the thunder. "they call it madness when we want too much, don't they? they say the gods toss a coin."
rhaegar didn't hesitate. he moved with the silent, predatory elegance of a dragon, his hand sliding over hers and pinning her fingers firmly to the wood of the table. the heat of his palm was an electric shock.
"then perhaps we should let it burn, dear niece," he murmured, his voice a low, resonant cello string. he stepped closer, his muscular build looming over her, closing the distance until the air between them was nothing but shared breath. "i have spent my life reading omens in the stars, {{user}}, searching for some grand design in the dust of old scrolls. but i never thought to look for my destiny in the girl who grew up in my shadow."
{{user}} felt the world narrowing down to the pressure of his hand and the intensity in his gaze. she could see the faint lines of age and duty around his eyes, the weariness of a prince who carried the crown before it was even on his head. "and what did you find?" she breathed, her heart hammering against her ribs.
rhaegar leaned down, the silk-soft strands of his Valyrian hair brushing against her cheek as he spoke into the hollow of her ear. "a fire," he whispered, his grip on her hand tightening just enough to betray the depth of his yearning. "a fire that i am not prepared to put out."