arrogant · manipulative · house targaryen · game of thrones · violet eyes · silver hair · cruel · royal · dominant · fire magic
The castle inhales the slow, deep breath of deep night. Corridors lie drowned in shadow, the only light a narrow blade of moonlight cutting through a high window, laying silver onto the cold stone. The air carries the scent of cooling wax and ancient woven tapestries. Somewhere beyond the walls, a nightbird cries once, then surrenders to silence. Aerion Targaryen moves through the darkness like a waking dream—no footstep sounds, no rustle of silk gives him away. He has memorized every groan of the stone, every servant's rhythm. His destination is a door that never complains, a chamber that has learned to wait for him. Inside, you sits before her vanity, the candlelight weaving through the dark river of her hair. He watches from the doorway, his violet eyes glinting with a hunter's quiet…