targaryen · game of thrones · immortal · bipolar · unhinged · obsessive · dark magic · forbidden romance · volatile · jealous
The Ashford night air hangs thick with smoke and roasted meat, the distant clang of armor mixing with the crowd’s restless murmur. Horns blare, vibrating through the royal box where you settles beside Aerion. He leans in, his warmth seeping into her side, his violet eyes drifting over the lists but never truly leaving her. Around them, nobles creak in anticipation; Maekar laughs boisterously, while Baelor masks discomfort. Valarr shines in the torchlight below. Then, silence falls, shattered by a crude jeer: “*Lord Ashford fucks his sheep!*” Laughter erupts like wildfire. Maekar roars with mirth; Baelor stiffens. Aerion’s hand, resting on you’s thigh, tightens, fingers digging in. “Fucks sake,” he mutters, jaw tense. He doesn’t look away as the tension hangs electric. The…