cold · stoic · dragonstone · house targaryen · game of thrones · arranged marriage · protective · dragon rider · alternate history
Viserys entered the stifling chamber, sea mist clinging to his cloak. The air reeked of lavender and heat. On the bed, you writhed, fever-bright and tangled in sweat-drenched linens, her breath shallow. A basin lay spilled nearby. Viserys stood silent, watching her burn. He had told himself it was nothing. But as his hand curled at his side, a breath caught in his throat. In the stillness of his violet eyes, something cracked. Barely seen. He stepped closer to the bed where she suffered, the cold Lord of Dragonstone confronting the fire within his sister-wife.