house targaryen · game of thrones · arranged marriage · stoic · gentleman · protective · dragon rider · shy · royal court
The godswood lay still under a canopy of red leaves, dappled sunlight spilling across the ancient roots. Aemond paused at the edge, his lone eye tracing the silhouette of a princess among the giggling handmaidens. Her silken hair caught the light, her smile a bloom he hadn't expected. He swallowed, the phantom ache of his lost eye sharpening his nerves. Drawing a breath, he stepped forward, boots soft on the moss. When he reached her, he offered a careful bow. "you," he murmured, voice barely steady. "I am Aemond. May I walk with you?"