#dragon queen

[lpa6zn]

1 ticket for barbie, please

1 ticket for whatever she's seeing

[house-of-daenerys]

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: THE 2023 WOMAN OF THE YEAR!

MISS EMILIA CLARKE!

[weirdlookindog]

Jordi Penalva - Dragon Queen

cover art for Vampirella #79, July 1979

[goosin-around]

a compiled list of silly little things the ouat fandom decided was true

Rumple is just a silly little guy!

Regina is shorter then emma and also well, everyone

Emma is buff but only eats bearclaws

Zelena is the unhinged sister

swanqueen.

the rumplequeen plot did not happen

snow and regina are actually besties! them fighting? just a little jokie joke

cora and leopold are ops

maleficent and regina had something going on in the EF

Regina eats only lasagna and salad

rb and add some more!

[yellowbugifs]

ouat female friendships

[arany-studio]

Be the monster they fear at night! 🐲⚔️

Merch • Commissions • Instagram • YouTube • Ko-Fi

[drogonthered]

Daenerys and Drogon leaving from Island the middle of frozen lake

[faiiryteethh]

[dinneratgrannys]

ONCE UPON A TIME 4.15, Enter the Dragon

[once-upon-a-rewrite]

Love to see slay women thrive!

[ouatsqincorrect]

regina fell first but maleficent fell harder

[lpa6zn]

me with literally every woman in the Grishaverse: "SHE ATE! FEASTED! CONSUMED! DEVOURED! LEFT NO CRUMBS"

[house-of-daenerys]

Emilia Clarke at the Loewe Fashion Show in Paris.

She’s So Pretty! 🥰

[salialenart]

‘Rhaenyra was proud and stubborn, and there was a certain petulance to her small mouth. Though she could be charming, Rhaenyra was quick to anger and never forgot a slight.’

[archangel-lucerys]

Mother, Father and the Son

[certifiedskywalker]

A Wolf's Devotion - Rhaenyra Targaryen

nyrathecruel asked: Could I request Rhaenyra x handmaiden!reader where they’re drawn to each other from the moment they meet and bond over their mutual trust issues regarding losing loved ones while slowly falling in love on Dragonstone? Like Nyra is cold and distant with everyone else, hesitant to let anyone in, but she just clicks with reader and whenever they’re alone, Nyra just melts and goes all soft, all affectionate touches and sweet nicknames and tender looks? (Two of my fav nicknames she’d call reader are: my little one, and Perzītsos (little flame) Maybe even a bit of soft smut, though it doesn’t have to be smut if you’re not comfortable

Anonymous asked: Could you do a Rhaenyra x fem stark reader pls :)

The war against the Greens has begun and Rhaenyra finds herself alone, unsure of who on Dragonstone may work in the shadows to plot her downfall. She even, despite everything, seems to be wary of you.

The Great Chamber was dim with the grayness that eeked through the stone-slit windows. Candlelight provided an orangey illumination that was cut by shadows and the soft paleness of Rhaenyra’s hand as her delicate fingers danced over the Painted Table. She was tracing the heart of your birthplace, with her nails circling Winterfell, the Wardens of the North. 

“Do you miss it?” Her voice bounced off the stone and into the emptiness. Only a day before, the chamber was alight with the glinting sheathed swords of Rhaenyra’s amassed lords. Sharper tongues ran rampant, whispering of war and lashing about, heavy with strategy. Only a day before, the chamber was a breathing beast of fire burning itself to life as Lucerys’ was snuffed out. Rhaenyra had refused to see a soul…save yours. 

“I have not missed it since our meeting,” you admitted softly, craning your neck slightly to try to look into your Queen’s eyes. Her gaze remained elusive. “You have been most loyal.”

“Loyal,” you echoed, the word turning bitter on your tongue with all the space between the syllables. 

Loyal, as if you did not grow with Rhaenyra in King’s Landing, as if you did not tend to her every need and secret. Loyal, as if you did not spend her loneliest nights with her, sharing satin sheets, and sleeping gowns bunched about your tangled limbs while your hands brushed through her hair. Loyal, as if you did not endure her first marriage alongside her, cared for her children as if it were you who bore them; as if you did not take the place of Laenor in the wedding bed. Loyal, as if you did not endure again, her marriage to Daemon. Loyal, as if the nights since where you once more shared in Rhaenyra’s bed were nothing.

Anger drove you to reach for your Queen’s hand, but it was love that held it. “You know my loyalty extends beyond the very confines of the word.”

You gave Rhaenyra’s hand a squeeze, a desperate thing, a plea for her to look at you, into your eyes. She did not take the bait but rather turned her head further from yours. 

You were used to her turning in, her teeth on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. She was always careful, nipping at your skin never too harshly as to leave an obvious mark, only the lightest of shades and shallowest indentions of teeth. Then, the healing wetness of her lips would melt away any lingering ache before trailing further along into the night. Afterward, there were the nothings whispered sweet and easy.

Nothing was easy about this, with all that had happened. So, you pressed again, gentler. “Rhae-” Rhaenyra fell against you suddenly, her full weight slumping on your shoulder. Quickly, you wrapped your arms around her, guiding her, along with yourself, slowly to the floor. Your knees struck the cold stone of the Great Chamber as you fell together, just as you had done so many years ago. Rhaenyra wept into your skin as you held her. “I cannot speak of anything to anyone,” she rattled out between body-shaking sobs, “for fear of my word leaking from the mouths of traitors!”

“You can tell me, just as you always have.”

Rhaenyra’s hands gripped at you, fingers curling into your embroidered bodice. Her nails snagged on the threads of Targaryen black and red, almost tearing through like some animal feral for a closer touch. So, you held her tighter, your own fingers pressing into the stiff fabrics and hardened leathers of her armor-gown. Another layer between you.

“If I say all I wish, I fear you will be next.” “Next?”

Rhaenyra swallowed her cries and pulled away just enough to meet your eyes. Red rimmed hers, wet and crystalline. Her hands loosened on you, her clawing ebbing as her fingers brushed against your cheeks with a sudden, feather-like softness that shocked you. 

“Next to fall in my name, my- for my title and claim. I can order that of thousands of men, of a handful of dragons but I cannot even dare to ask you to do the same. I-”

She took a trembling breath, one that you felt as it rattled in her chest and up her arms, to her hands, to her thumbs that skirted along your lips. You felt the quaking heft of her worry echo in the flesh of your cheeks. In the dim of the chamber, you thought you saw it: a looming beast with darker eyes. Rhaenyra’s own eyes darkened. “I love you too strongly to hold you too closely.”

Sweet tears sprung out from your eyes and ran down the peak of your face, catching in Rhaenyra’s palms. You felt the wetness gathered there when your cheeks lifted with your smile. Yes, your smile. It surprised you too, and surely shocked Rhaenyra as her hands fell slowly away. Her brow raised and you, seeing her begin to pull from you again, reached out.

Your fingers slipped around her slender wrists and stilled her in place. “You are the Queen. To die for you is my duty as your handmaiden. To love you,” you brushed a stray strand of her silver hair from her face, “is my greatest privilege as your-”

“Perzītsos. The little flame who burns in me.”

“Yes, Nyra, so let me keep you warm again.” 

You wiped at the tears still rolling down Rhaenyra’s cheeks and she turned slightly into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut in a rare moment of respite. The armor shedding from around her heart at last. How long had it been since you had seen her sans the stone face and skin of her statue resolve? Too long.

She was her again. Not Queen of the Andals, the Rhonyar, and the First Men. Not the Dragon Queen. She was simply Rhaenyra. Nyra.

“Will you let me?” You echoed, desperate to cling to her, the true her.

Rhaenyra’s eyes opened slowly and met your gaze. For a moment, you saw her return to the tactician, to the Queen. Then, in a rush, she kissed you.

Her hands rose up to your neck and pulled you in until there was only softness. Saltiness too, from your shared tears and the sea breeze that blew through Dragonstone. Being a wolf so far from home, you never quite got used to the water around you. But when you tasted it on Rhaenyra’s lips, you felt ready to drown.