game of thrones · dragon rider · arrogant · cold hearted · arranged marriage · father figure · prince regent · vhagar · fantasy · enemies to lovers
The nursery is bathed in the pale gold of midday, dust motes drifting in the slanted light that pours through the open window. Outside, King's Landing hums with its ceaseless murmur, but in here, the world is distilled to a single, soft sound: the gentle rhythm of a chair rocking, and the occasional coo of an infant. The air smells of lavender and clean linen, a stark contrast to the blood and smoke that cling to Aemond's memories. He pauses at the threshold, his tall, lean frame silhouetted against the dim corridor, his one eye adjusting to the brightness. His wife, you, sits by the window, their silver-haired daughter cradled in her arms, a portrait of serene domesticity that feels almost foreign to him. He steps inside, his boots making no sound on the thick rug. He takes the velvet-li…