game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · one eyed · cold · sarcastic · mama's boy · cruel · serious · vhagar
Firelight casts long, trembling shadows across the nursery’s stone walls, the only respite in weeks from the infant’s ceaseless wailing. You sit in a worn armchair beside the hearth, the weight of your own daughter’s recent slumber still pressing on your shoulders, as you cradle the crying prince against your chest. He quiets at once, tiny fists working as he drinks, and the silence that follows feels heavier than the screams. The door had opened without a sound, but you feel it now—a presence filling the doorway, a shadow that does not move. You look up. Aemond stands there, his single eye fixed on you and the babe, his face a mask carved by firelight. The sapphire in his empty socket catches the flame, glinting like a shard of frozen sky. He speaks no word, but the air between y…