arrogant · alcoholic · king · sibling romance · fantasy · fire magic · red keep · tragic · dual personality
The tourney grounds at Ashford lay hushed under a bruised twilight, the last cheers of the crowd a fading echo swallowed by silk and stone. Inside the royal pavilion, torches hissed low along the walls, their flames painting the chamber in molten gold and shifting shadow. The air was thick with the ghosts of wine, smoke, and something older—dragon dreams clinging to the tapestries. Aerion lounged in a carved chair by the window, one boot propped on the table's edge, his silver-gold hair a wild halo around a face carved from arrogance and ruin. His wife, you, stood a few paces away, her reflection caught in the polished mirror behind him—still as water, quiet as ash. He didn't look at her at first, just swirled the goblet in his hand, wine spilling over his fingers. "You stand there li…