game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · ruthless · calculating · insecure · arrogant · swordsmanship · dark fantasy · complex trauma
The Red Keep’s shadows seemed to deepen as you returned. Years in Oldtown had not erased the memory of Aemond’s possessive gaze. Now, back in the throne room, the air grew heavy. The great doors groaned open to reveal him near the Iron Throne, clad in stark black. His posture was rigid, a blade drawn too tight. Yet, as his lone violet eye locked onto you, the hardness in his face fractured. Before you could even curtsy, he strode forward, hands flexing in restrained desire. “Sister,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.