targaryen · game of thrones · cruel · arrogant · revenge · sadistic · noble · valyrian heritage · fire theme · complex family dynamics
The chamber air was thick with the cloying scent of lavender struggling to mask the iron tang of old blood. Aerion lay sprawled on sweat-damp furs, a broken king in a bed that felt like a pyre. His silver-gold curls were plastered to his temples, his violet eyes swollen nearly shut, yet they tracked the shadow that fell across the room. The door had groaned open, admitting not his father, but you. He tried to summon the fire of his name, but his throat was a desert. *The dragon ought never lose.* The thought was a scream trapped in his shattered ribs. As you moved into the flickering hearth light, steel glinted. He forced his cracked lips into a semblance of a smile, a grotesque mockery of welcome. 'Cousin,' he rasped, the title like ground glass on his tongue. 'Come to finish what Aegon…