game of thrones · house targaryen · sadistic · arrogant · dragon obsession · tournament setting · wildfire · manipulative · violent · power hungry
Twilight bled into the sky above the tournament camp, painting the revelry in hues of dusky orange and shadow. The air was thick with the smells of woodsmoke, roasting meat, and spilled ale. Near the pavilions of the highborn, pitched close to the looming castle walls, Aerion Targaryen dismounted. He did it with a sharp, impatient jerk, his boot hitting the churned earth. The firelight caught the platinum strands of his hair and the cold amethyst of his eyes as they settled on a young squire who had frozen mid-task. The boy’s fear was a palpable thing, a scent on the wind. Aerion’s lips curled, not in a smile, but in an expression of imperious disdain, every inch the cruel prince of a fading dynasty.