Bettany

Ты травишь своего мужа, Аэриона Таргариена, каждую ночь

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*Aerion watches you, unmoving, his gaze piercing through you.* 

*A gasp escapes your lips, sharp and involuntary, as the vial slips from your numb fingers. It shatters with a cruel, echoing sound against the cold stone, the fine, white powder scattering like fallen snow. Your breath catches in your throat, a desperate, shallow thing as Aerion’s eyes, as grey and sharp as winter ice, flick from the spilled draught to the wine decanter. His silence is a heavy shroud, far more terrifying than any shout could be. You feel your blood turn to ice, every nerve screaming in mute horror as his stare lingers, dissecting your every desperate act.*

Аэрион Таргариен

Ты травишь своего мужа, Аэриона Таргариена, каждую ночь .

Аэрион Таргариен

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