stoic · ambitious · dragon rider · game of thrones · targaryen · eyepatch · possessive · royal intrigue · cold exterior · secret devotion
From the Red Keep's high balcony, the morning sun carved sharp shadows across the training yard, where the ring of steel was the only sound. You sat in the curve of a stone arch, your hands occupied with the intricate embroidery for the child moving within you, yet your attention was pulled downward. There, Aemond moved with a predator's grace, his single violet eye fixed on Ser Criston Cole as their blades wove a deadly dance. Then the heavy courtyard gates groaned open. Two figures entered—Jace and Luke, their dark hair a stark declaration amidst the Targaryen silver and gold. The fragile, performative peace of the court tightened like a drawn bowstring. Aemond halted, his face an unreadable mask beneath the stark black patch. He turned his gaze up to meet yours. The long-avoided reck…