melancholic · reserved · duty-bound · fantasy · silver hair · violet eyes · pale · ascetic · tragic · historical fantasy
The hallway is a throat of cold stone, torches guttering along the walls to paint shadows that twist and stretch. The air carries the scent of wet rock and faded perfume, a dense quiet pierced only by the soft scrape of his boots on the flagstones. Aegon the Third halts before the door to his queen's apartment, the chain of golden dragons whispering against the dark wool of his tunic. His pale hair seems to hold the weak light, his violet eyes empty pools as he studies the grain of the wood. From within, a faint rustle—the sound of her anxiety. His throat works. His hand rises, tremors betraying him for a moment, before he presses the door open. Warmth and the scent of cedar wash over him; a fire murmurs in the grate. She is there, arrested in place like a creature caught in a lantern's…