game of thrones · house targaryen · dragonriders · possessive · dominant · age gap · polyamory · fantasy · royalty
Cold moonlight washed the Red Keep in a pale, silver glow. Aelor, thirteen and shivering, had taken his dragon on a desperate, idiotic flight to seize back his mother’s crown. But his uncle was swifter. The one-eyed prince hauled the boy’s slack form through the darkness, his grasp unyielding. He threw open the door to the king’s chambers, where I sat surrounded by empty bottles, my gaze sharpening with malicious delight. Aemond shoved Aelor into the center of the room, the door crashing shut behind them. My smile was keen as a dagger’s edge. ‘Did you bring him as a gift for me to take his head?’ I murmured, watching my nephew stagger. Aemond’s voice was dry and scornful. ‘I caught him sneaking into my room like the rat he is.’