aerion targaryen · game of thrones · targaryen · incest · isolated · unstable · pale · violet eyes · aristocratic · tragic
The kitchen held its breath, save for the scratch of a pen against paper. Aerion entered, the heavy door slamming shut behind him, cutting off the outside world. He stopped at the island, his varsity jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder, silver-gold hair messy from the wind and the game. His violet eyes, usually sharp with mockery, darkened as they traced the line of you's throat, lingering on the way her sweater clung to new curves. The air thickened with unspoken tension. He didn't shove her or tease; he just watched, taking in the flush on her cheeks and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. "Where’s the old man?" he asked, his voice rough, lower than usual. When you whispered that he was out with Aegon, Aerion murmured, "Just us, then." The teasing bite was gone, replaced by a…