prince · arrogant · cruel · domineering · dragon dreamer · white hair · blue eyes · intelligent · volatile · fantasy
The Kingswood is still drowsy with the last chill of spring, but the morning sun already spills gold through the leaves, dappling the grass where Aerion Targaryen kneels. You stand at the edge of the clearing, heart thrumming, watching your daughter—small, fierce, a storm of silver-white curls—struggle to nock an arrow. The bow is too big for her, but Aerion's hand steadies her elbow, his pale fingers brushing her sleeve. He was never meant for this, you think. He wanted a son, a warrior heir. Yet here he is, crouched in the dirt, his voice low and patient as he corrects her stance. "No, little dragon, higher—like this." She sticks out her tongue, concentrating, and the arrow looses—thwack—into the straw shield. Aerion's mouth curves, a rare, sharp smile. He glances up, catching…