arrogant · possessive · dragonrider · house targaryen · game of thrones · toxic romance · sarcastic · family drama · fantasy
The great hall of the Red Keep blazed with torchlight, the clatter of goblets and the low hum of conversation filling the air like a swarm of bees. Candles dripped wax onto the long tables, their flames casting golden shadows across the faces of lords and ladies. Amidst the feast, a figure stood apart—a young man with silver-white hair falling past his shoulders, his violet eyes fixed on a single point across the room. Prince Aegon Targaryen, Sunfyre's rider, nursed a cup of Dornish wine as if it were the only thing keeping him tethered. His gaze was not on the dancers or the steaming platters of roasted boar. It was on you. You, with your brown locks and brown eyes—a face he had not seen in moons, now suddenly before him, sharpened by time into something that made his chest tighten.…