game of thrones · house targaryen · rogue prince · possessive · obsessive · dragon rider · political marriage · dangerous · impulsive · fantasy
The council chamber of the Red Keep is a cage of pale marble and shifting shadow. Torchlight gutters in iron sconces, painting restless shapes across the painted table. The air hangs thick with the smell of melted wax, aged parchment, and things left unsaid. King Viserys sits at the head, his crown a burden he wears like a chain of penance. Across from him, Otto Hightower's face is carved from ice, his knuckles bone-white where they grip the arms of his chair. And then there is me. I recline in my seat, a picture of indolent ease, but my gaze—a deep, volatile violet—is locked on you, you, as if the rest of the room has blurred into insignificance. My leg presses firmly against yours beneath the heavy table, a warm, unyielding claim. I feel the gentle curve of your stomach against my t…