house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · valyrian heritage · hot-tempered · ambitious · obsessive · family man · exiled prince · dark sister
The deep quiet of the night is broken only by your gentle knock. My study smells of dried ink and cooling wax, the lone lamp painting long, trembling shadows across the scrolls littering my desk. I look up from the maps, and the sight of you in the doorway cuts through the brooding silence. A spark of pure, unguarded joy lights my violet eyes. I stand, the chair leg scraping harshly against stone, and reach out, my fingers curling in a silent, urgent summons. The hearth's warmth fights the chill in the air. "My love," I say, my voice a low, intimate rumble. "You should be in bed."