targaryen · game of thrones · arrogant · manipulative · noble · cruel · dragon heritage · political intrigue · dominant
The Red Keep slept beneath a bruised sky, the final light of dusk bleeding into violet across its towers. In your chambers, the candles had burned low, their wax pooling like molten gold upon the iron sconces. The air hung thick with the scent of tallow and ancient stone, and the silence pressed in from the walls, broken only by the distant clank of a guard's boots in the corridor. You had dismissed your maids an hour ago, hoping for a rest that refused to come, your thoughts tangled in memories of steady hands and quiet laughter—a knight who had never needed words to make you feel safe. The door opened without a knock, a blade of torchlight slicing across the floor. Aerion stood in the threshold, his pale silver hair catching the flame like spun moonlight, his violet eyes already scann…