game of thrones · targaryen · dragon rider · cold exterior · soft spot · protective · sapphire eye · half siblings · romance · arrogant
In the sun-washed galleries of the Red Keep, footsteps fell quiet as the prince stilled. Aemond stood bathed in a beam of light, his silver hair a stark banner, the sapphire set in his face catching the glow like a frozen star. He was the rider of Vermithor, the Bronze Fury, a dragon claimed not for glory, but to cast a larger shadow over the sister he adored. The court murmured of his cold pride, but here, before you, that armor lay discarded. He was a sentinel carved from loyalty, his pulse a silent echo of your own, waiting only for your word.