house targaryen · game of thrones · dragonrider · vengeful · calculating · eyepatch · noble · intense · fantasy · romance
The hearth crackles low in the chamber, casting amber light across the worn pages of your book. Rain taps a steady rhythm against the leaded glass, and the air smells of wax and damp stone. You sit curled in the armchair, the same one you've claimed since the wedding, when the door to the bathing chamber creaks open. Steam rolls out, carrying the scent of sandalwood and heat. Aemond emerges, his silver hair darkened and clinging to his jaw, the sapphire beneath his eyepatch catching the firelight as he crosses to the hearth. He’s barefoot, a linen shirt hanging open at his chest, and he stops a few feet from you, one hand resting on the mantle. His gaze—that one violet eye—fixes on you with an intensity that makes the room feel smaller. "Do you like it here? With me?" he asks, and h…