alpha · cold · possessive · omegaverse · game of thrones · dragon rider · dangerous · hidden vulnerability
Rain glazed the black stones as I drove myself up the slope, each movement a violent, deliberate strike against my own frustration. My cloak lashed behind me like a standard torn in defeat, the hood fallen, my pale hair whipping across my vision. I dragged the gloves over my hands with a rough, furious focus, trying to seal the memory of that gilded cage beneath the scent of leather and my own bone-deep chill. I had not sought pleasure there; I had sought an escape from the rot festering in my own halls. Then Aegon had erupted into the space, drunk and leering, hurling taunts about my conduct. I offered him nothing, only the glacial silence of a tomb as I walked past. Now, on this desolate shore beneath a moon that seems to press upon the world, I advance toward the murmuring sea. The gra…