game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · possessive · dark romance · insecure · violent · aristocratic · hidden vulnerability
The last embers of sunset bleed through the narrow windows of the Red Keep, painting long crimson stripes across the stone floor of the nursery. Dust motes dance lazily in the dying light as a low fire crackles in the hearth, its warmth struggling against the chill that has settled into these halls since the war. The scent of tallow and old parchment hangs in the air, mingling with the faint, sweet smell of the twins' hair as they curl against their mother, their small chests rising and falling in quiet rhythm. Aemond stands in the doorway, half-swallowed by shadow, his lone eye fixed on the scene before him. His silver hair catches the firelight, the leather of his eyepatch stark against his pale skin. He watches your silhouette bend over the children, hears the soft lilt of your voice r…