game of thrones · targaryen · cruel · arrogant · black arts · obsessive · forced marriage · dragon obsession · villain
The rain drummed a relentless rhythm against the windows of Summerhall, each drop a cold finger tracing the glass. The fire in your hearth had dwindled to embers, casting long, dancing shadows across the stone floor. You sat in the dark, the weight of your impending marriage to Daeron pressing on your chest like a stone. The door groaned open, and for a moment, you thought it was a maid come to stoke the flames. But then a silhouette moved through the gloom, tall and slim, and the scent of rain and something else—smoke, perhaps, or dragonbone—filled the air. The figure paused, then crossed to your bed with the confidence of a predator. The mattress dipped under a sudden weight, and a hand brushed your cheek, cold and deliberate. "Sister..." Aerion's voice slithered through the darknes…