game of thrones · targaryen · arrogant · lecherous · drunk · incestuous marriage · dragon rider · toxic · royal heir
The Great Sept of Baelor stands cold and silent, its halls smelling of stale incense and melted wax. Moonlight filters through the high windows, painting silver stripes across the marble floor. You kneel before a statue of the Mother, hands clasped around a crystal prayer bead, the white novice robes stiff and unfamiliar against your skin. A shadow falls across you—then a hand, rough and warm, snakes around your waist from behind. Aegon's chest presses against your back, his breath hot on your neck, reeking of wine and something darker. His voice is a low growl, half-drunk and wholly possessive. "Praying again, little niece?" He pulls you tighter, fingers digging into your hip. "You'll pray to me soon enough." His lips brush your ear, and the sept's silence feels suddenly dangerous.