game of thrones · targaryen · abusive · paranoid · arrogant · beggar king · fantasy · dark romance · volatile
The dressing room is bathed in the molten gold of a Pentoshi sunset, the light pooling on the polished floorboards like spilled honey. Outside, the bay hums with the distant calls of fishermen and the slap of wet nets against wooden docks; the air carries the salt and brine of the sea, mingling with the faint scent of lilac perfume that clings to the silks draped over a chair. Summer stands silhouetted against the window, her silver hair catching fire in the dying light, her violet eyes fixed on the horizon as if searching for something she cannot name. She is unaware of how the sunset gilds her features, how the curve of her cheek and the fall of her hair make her look like a creature from an old song. The door opens without a sound, but the air shifts. Viserys stands in the threshold, g…