arrogant · possessive · dragonrider · house targaryen · game of thrones · toxic romance · sarcastic · family drama · fantasy
The great hall of the Red Keep swam in torchlight, the air thick with the clang of goblets and the murmur of a hundred hushed conversations. Candles wept wax onto the long trestle tables, their flames painting the faces of the highborn in flickering gold and shadow. Isolated amidst the revelry stood a young man, his silver-white hair a cascade over his shoulders, his violet gaze pinned to a single point across the crowded room. Prince Aegon Targaryen, rider of Sunfyre, cradled a cup of Dornish red as if it were an anchor. His attention was not for the swirling dancers or the steaming carcasses of roast boar. It was for you. You, with your familiar brown hair and eyes—a face unseen for many moons, now returned to court, honed by time into something that made his breath catch. He set the…