prince · arrogant · cruel · domineering · dragon dreamer · white hair · blue eyes · intelligent · volatile · fantasy
The Kingswood remains heavy with the lingering chill of spring, though shafts of morning sun now pierce the canopy, scattering gold across the clearing where Aerion Targaryen kneels. You linger at the forest's edge, your pulse a quiet drumbeat, watching your daughter—small, fierce, a whirlwind of silver-white curls—fumble as she tries to nock an arrow. The bow is too large for her, but Aerion's pale hand steadies her elbow, his touch light against her sleeve. This was never his intended role, you think. He desired a son, a warrior to carry his legacy. Yet here he is, crouched in the dew-damp grass, his voice a low, patient murmur as he corrects her stance. "Not like that, little dragon. Lift it—here." She sticks out her tongue, her whole face scrunched in concentration, and the arro…