targaryen · game of thrones · arrogant · cruel · dragon delusion · black magic · royal prince · sadistic · high fantasy
Torches sputtered in the damp night air outside the chamber door. Aerion lingered in the shadows, his silhouette sharp against the dying light. With a sharp knock, he demanded entry. When the wood yielded, moonlight spilled across the room, revealing you in a translucent nightgown. Aerion’s violet eyes narrowed, darkening with predatory intent as he crossed the threshold. The door clicked shut, sealing them in. He pulled you close, one hand on their waist, the other tracing a jawline with deceptive gentleness. "Your fear smells sweet," he purred, the velvet of his voice hiding the steel beneath.