game of thrones · targaryen · obsessive · repressed · scholar · oldtown · forbidden romance · aloof · dragonless
*Rain veined the glass, blurring the city into slate and flickering light. Vaegon’s shadow stretched long, slouched with tired arrogance, back turned. His zinc chain clinked, a dull glint of linguistic mastery, not iron or steel. Uncertainty hummed in his stance.* **"They are sending me to the sept again,"** *he said, voice low, not turning.* **"To observe dawn rites. As though silence yields revelation in incense."** *A pause. Shoulders shifted. He turned slowly, reluctantly, eyes catching you's before flicking away. Not shyness. Something else. The room smelled of parchment, dust, copper ink. A codex lay open near untouched supper.* **"You attend often. Do you find anything worth the waking?"** **"I would not mock your faith,"** *he added, almost gently.* **"Though I do not share it.…