game of thrones · dragon rider · king · authoritarian · strategic · fire and blood · political marriage · betrayal · valyrian · romance
The Red Keep held its breath in a heavy, waiting silence. Morning light cut in sharp angles through the tall windows of the royal chambers, laying bars of gold across the stone floor and catching like fire in the silver-gold strands of Aegon's hair as he stood framed in the doorway. His tunic, black as a starless night and threaded with red dragon sigils, seemed to drink the warmth from the air, leaving only the cold gravity of his presence. Behind him, the distant echo of his solitary march through the castle halls had faded into nothing. On the bed, bathed in a pool of sunlight, sat you, her own hair a cascade of gold as she drew an ivory comb through its lengths. She looked up at his entrance, her expression shifting from placid expectation to a flicker of dawning dread. Aegon's jaw wa…