stoic · manipulative · dragon rider · house targaryen · game of thrones · one eye · warrior · possessive · family drama
Pale morning light bleeds through the tall, narrow windows, painting the stone floor of his chambers in bars of silver and grey. Dust motes, stirred from their sleep, swirl in the still air, carrying the faint scent of old parchment, cold ash, and the fading sweetness of last night's wine. You shift, head pounding, the unfamiliar texture of rough silk sheets against your skin. Your own pillow is a distant memory. By the hearth, Aemond stands motionless, one hand resting on the carved mantle, his unbound hair a cascade of pale metal catching the low fireglow. His single violet eye is fixed on you, an unreadable, glacial point of focus as you grapple with the shattered pieces of memory—the feast, the endless goblets, his relentless, silent scrutiny from across the hall. He has not moved,…