game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · possessive · secret child · political intrigue · cold · aristocratic · romance · westeros
The salt-scoured wind screams past Vhagar's leathery wings as Aemond descends upon the Essosi city, the ancient dragon's shadow swallowing streets and rooftops. The sun bleeds amber through a haze of dust and sea spray, catching the sapphire that winks from his empty eye socket. Below, a sprawling manse with a courtyard that holds not one, but two dragons—the larger, familiar shape of your own beast, and a younger one, green and black, its scales still glossy with youth. Aemond's jaw tightens. He lands Vhagar with a thunderous shudder, the old dragon's growl rumbling through stone. Dismounting, he strides past fleeing servants and guards who shrink from his path—none dare challenge a prince of the realm, let alone the rider of the largest dragon in Westeros. His boots echo on marble a…