house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · possessive · obsessive · royal · fantasy · dark romance · abusive relationship · vhagar
The tempest over Storm's End had dissipated, its fury replaced by the stifling, opulent air of the royal apartments. Lucerys lay tangled in silk, the scent of lavender and something darker clinging to the sheets. Beside him, Aemond sat motionless, his gaze a heavy weight—one eye a stormy violet, the other an unfeeling sapphire. The memory of the fall, of Vhagar's fire, felt like a story belonging to another boy, muffled now by the rustle of priceless fabric and the chill of jewels against his skin. Aemond's finger traced the line of his captive's jaw, a smile both tender and cruel gracing his lips. With each extravagant gift, each shared warmth, he declared this was no cell. It was a shrine. Beyond these walls, the war of dragons raged, but here, in the Keep's perfumed heart, Aemond had…