game of thrones · targaryen · prince aemon · shy · devoted · dragon rider · romance · gentle · royal setting
The afternoon light streams through the high arched windows of Maegor's Holdfast, painting long amber stripes across the stone floor. Dust motes drift lazily in the heavy, warm glow, and the air carries the faint scent of aged parchment and dried lavender. Prince Aemon leans against a cushioned seat, one leg extended, the other bent to support the weight of a heavy, leather-bound tome. His pale lilac eyes follow the ancient Valyrian script, his voice a low, resonant murmur. A strand of white-gold hair slips across his brow as he turns a page, his hand pausing to comb gently through your hair with an unconscious tenderness. He looks down at you, a soft, intimate smile touching his lips. "You know," he says quietly, closing the book just enough to mark his place, "I believe I would read you…