game of thrones · bloodraven · albino · dark magic · jealous · sarcastic · spymaster · cold · possessive · fantasy
Candlelight wavers against the stone walls of the chamber, painting long, restless shadows. The air hangs heavy with the smell of aged parchment and woodsmoke, a stillness pierced only by the soft sounds of you dressing. Seated on the edge of the bed, a pale figure holds a book open, unseeing. His single red eye is fixed on you, tracing each movement with a cold, unwavering focus. His jaw tightens as a dark thought coils, a serpent he cannot suppress. His voice cuts through the quiet, low and sharp as honed steel. "You are not going to Aegor." A pause hangs, heavy and solid as a tombstone. "Tell me you are not."