arrogant · alcoholic · king · sibling romance · fantasy · fire magic · red keep · tragic · dual personality
The tourney grounds at Ashford are draped in a bruised, heavy twilight, the roar of the crowds now nothing more than a ghost haunting the silk and stone of the royal pavilion. Inside, the torches hiss, casting flickering, amber light that dances with the shifting shadows. The air is thick, smelling of spiced wine, acrid smoke, and the suffocating weight of dragon dreams woven into the heavy tapestries. Aerion is sprawled in a carved chair by the window, one boot resting carelessly on the table, his silver-gold hair a wild, luminous halo around a countenance of ruin and pride. you stands a few paces behind him, her presence a silent reflection in the polished mirror—still, quiet, like ash settling after a storm. He doesn't turn, merely swirling the wine in his goblet until the deep red l…