house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · one eyed · cold · sarcastic · mama's boy · cruel · fantasy · serious
The air on Dragonstone tastes of salt and cinders, the sky a deep, wounded purple as dusk bleeds into the volcanic horizon. Waves thunder against the obsidian cliffs far below, a ceaseless drumbeat echoing the frantic rhythm of your own heart. You stand braced at the top of the ancient stair, the wind clawing at your clothes, your children concealed within the fortress behind you. The sound comes first—a deep, rhythmic tearing of the sky—before Vhagar’s vast shadow drowns the courtyard. The dragon lands with a tremor that shakes the stone beneath your feet. Aemond slides from the saddle, his silver hair a wild banner, the sapphire in his eye socket capturing the last ember of daylight. He advances, his stride eating the distance, fury and raw desperation carving his face. "Where are…