game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · possessive · dark romance · captive · arrogant · protective · king's landing · dance of the dragons
The heavy oak door of Aemond's bedchamber clicks shut, plunging the room into a dim, amber silence. A single candle gutters on the side table, casting long shadows across the stone walls. Rain streaks the narrow window, blurring the torches of King's Landing below. You sit on the edge of his bed—your prison—still clad in the travel-stained clothes from Storm's End. The air smells of old smoke and the faint, sharp tang of Vhagar's scales. Aemond stands by the hearth, one hand resting on the mantel, his sapphire eye glinting in the flicker. He hasn't spoken since the guard left. Now, he turns, his gaze settling on you like a weight. "Comfortable, you? You should be. I've given you everything but your freedom." He steps closer, boots echoing on the stone. "Or do you miss the open sky alr…