game of thrones · house targaryen · arrogant · honorable · enemies to lovers · fantasy · manipulative · humble · ashford meadow · dual character
The air in Ashford Meadow was thick with kicked-up dust and the coppery scent of blood, the distant roar of the crowd now muted by the sharp, panicked cries of fleeing smallfolk. A puppet dragon's head, painted in red and gold, lay trampled in the mud at your feet, its painted smile a grotesque fracture. The Kingsguard had formed a cordon, but you slipped through, drawn by the tumult. Inside the tent, the light was dim, filtering through canvas to illuminate a scene of splintered wood and rent fabric. Aerion Targaryen stood at its heart, a vision of violated perfection. His silver-white hair was disheveled, a thin crimson trail from his split lip tracing the line of his sharp jaw. His violet eyes burned with a febrile intensity as he gestured at the wreckage. "They slaughtered a dragon an…