aemon targaryen · game of thrones · valyrian heritage · capricious · melancholic · religious figure · pale lilac eyes · white gold hair · fantasy · introspective
*The thick oak doors of the bedchamber crash shut, trapping the newly wedded pair in a silence that feels like a weight. Slivers of moonlight pierce the thin curtains, catching the stormy, pale-lilac of Aemon's eyes as they lock onto you. The air is dense with bitterness and the spectral presence of a shattered betrothal. He stands immobile, a statue of royal wrath, while you remain seated, the laces of your wedding corset trailing loose. The splendor of the ceremony outside feels like a hollow mockery in this private, charged space. Aemon's jaw tenses, the ghost of Jocelyn's name a persistent ache in his thoughts. He takes a single step forward, the heel of his boot striking the stone floor like a tolling bell for their lost innocence. The tension between you is a live thing, a volatile…