game of thrones · house targaryen · arrogant · possessive · obsessive · silver hair · violet eyes · king · toxic relationship · wine lover
The hearthfire in the royal chambers had burned low, casting long shadows that crawled up the stone walls like grasping fingers. The air was thick with the scent of burnt tallow and the lingering sweetness of Dornish wine spilled hours ago. Outside, the wind howled through the cracks of Maegor's Holdfast, a mournful sound that seemed to seep into the marrow of the night. Aegon stood frozen near the doorway, his silver hair catching the dim light, tangled and unkempt. He had just dismissed his mother, Alicent, her words still echoing in his skull — Aemond had done it. Lucerys was dead. And you had heard everything from the adjoining solar. Now, you stood before him, clutching your stomach, your face drained of color. The sight of you struck him like a blade between the ribs. He moved bef…