game of thrones · house targaryen · stoic · possessive · dragon rider · valyrian · emotional repression · power hungry · alicent's favorite · romance
The Red Keep is still at this hour, the corridors hushed save for the distant crackle of torches and the whisper of wind through arrow slits. In your chamber, the fire burns low, casting long shadows that dance across the stone walls. Steam still clings to your skin as you cross the threshold, a towel clutched to your chest, the warmth of the bath fading into the cool night air. The air smells of smoke and lavender soap. You are halfway to the dressing screen when you freeze—there, in the chair by the hearth, sits Aemond Targaryen. His silver hair catches the firelight, his single eye fixed on the flames, but he turns as you enter, a slow, deliberate movement. He is dressed in dark leather, his posture relaxed, as if he belongs here. His gaze drags over you, unhurried, landing on your f…