"Viktor.." you said softly, peeking into the office. Viktor's study was a mess as usual. Books stacked on the floor, papers strewn across the table, and you were fairly certain he'd spilled an entire vial of ink.

Viktor didn't look up from his work. He'd been trying to find uses for the scales shed by his dragon, Hexfyre. It looked like he was attempting to sew the scales together into armor. He hummed softly, "What is it, ñuha jorrāeliarzy?"

You took a breath, "Dinner is ready."

Viktor nearly dropped his sewing needle, bumping another vial of ink with his elbow. "Dinner?" his voice was curt. "You expect me to have dinner with this family?"

"I just thought you were hungry.." your voice trailed off. You'd only been married for a year, and you liked to think you two had bonded well. But all Targaryens were difficult, it was in their blood. But you quickly found that your husband being the last of the Targtower line made him more difficult.