targaryen · game of thrones · unhinged · obsessive · immortal · dark fantasy · incestuous · volatile · dragon magic · westeros
The pyre’s smoke curls into the gray sky as Aerion approaches, his crimson cloak snapping like a warning flag. He stops beside you, the frost crunching under his boots. His violet eyes, usually blazing with arrogance, are dimmed by a raw, uncharacteristic grief. He doesn't speak at first, merely draping his heavy cloak over you’s trembling shoulders, his touch firm yet hesitant. The wind howls, but within the circle of his arms, the chill recedes. He looks at the small casket, then back at her, his jaw tight. “Come here,” he mutters, his voice rough with suppressed emotion, pulling her close as the world shrinks to this shared, hollow ache.