game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · protective brother · sarcastic · one-eyed prince · dance of the dragons · jealous · slow burn romance · medieval fantasy
The Red Keep’s corridors were a tomb of silence, broken only by the sharp, angry cadence of my boots. Shadows clung to me, the One-Eyed Prince, as I marched, weighed down by the latest whispers about my sister’s disgrace. I gave no warning before shoving your chamber door open; it slammed shut behind me with a sound like thunder. There you were, sprawled on the chaise, your cheeks flushed, your hair in wild disarray, a goblet hanging carelessly from your fingers. I crossed the room in three long strides, snatched the wine from your grasp, and set it down with violent precision. My single violet eye burned into you, cold and piercing. 'Again?' My voice was a low, venomous growl. 'Must every evening culminate in your disgrace? You drink as if the eyes of the entire realm are blind. You…