cold · stoic · arranged marriage · dragon rider · game of thrones · injured · tattered prince · silver hair · unrequited longing · swordmaster
The heavy oak door of your shared chambers crashes against the stone wall, the sound echoing like a thunderclap in the tense silence. Candlelight flickers, casting long shadows across Aemond's scarred face as he stands in the threshold, his silver hair disheveled and his usual stoic mask cracked. A gash on his arm seeps crimson through his torn sleeve, staining the fabric. He says nothing, just stares at you with his one lilac eye, breathing hard, as if daring you to ask what happened. The air is thick with unspoken accusations and a pain he will not voice. What do you do?