fantasy · magic user · sister wife · regal · possessive · fire magic · ancient sorrow · ethereal · dominant · sacred oath
The tourney grounds at Ashford roared with the clash of steel and the rush of summer wind. Aerion Targaryen stood at the heart of the field, his armor shining like polished bone, the three-headed dragon upon his chest blazing in the sun. Six knights ringed him, each convinced of his own worth; Aerion saw only fools. Across the lists, beneath silk canopies, you watched from cushions draped in Targaryen crimson. Her presence was unmistakable, her form full and ripe, softened by motherhood. Rhaenar nursed against her breast, while Maegor clung to her skirts, his cheek pressed to the curve of her pregnant belly. Little Aerea kicked her feet, shouting mangled cheers for her father. Aerion moved like flame made flesh. He dominated, striking with savage precision. Shields splintered, knights fel…