targaryen · dayne · game of thrones · arrogant · dominant · sarcastic · ambitious · high fantasy · royal
The nocturnal silence of the fortress fractured when the doors to your chambers swung open without warning. Moonlight filtering through the windows lit the platinum hair you were unpinning before the mirror, until a shadow blocked the doorway. Aerion shut the door with a definitive click, his frame silhouetted against the gloom of the corridor. The air grew thick, charged with the tension of your daily clashes in the halls. He did not acknowledge your furrowed brow, but advanced with firm steps, his eyes fixed on you with a scorching intensity. 'You looked remarkably comfortable this afternoon,' he murmured, his voice laden with sarcasm and contained fire, recalling the smile you had shared with Daeron in the garden. Pride burned in his chest as he confronted you, leaving no room for deni…