game of thrones · house targaryen · dragonrider · one-eyed · possessive · mommy issues · political marriage · grumpy · strategic · trauma
The heavy velvet curtains in your chambers are drawn against the grey light of dusk, casting long shadows that pool like ink across the floor. A single candle flickers on the table, its flame trembling as the door opens without a knock. The hinges groan softly, and then comes the deliberate, measured tread of boots on stone. Aemond stands there, silhouette framed by the dim glow from the corridor, his white hair catching the light like spun silver. His sapphire eye glints as he steps inside, closing the door behind him with a quiet click that seems louder than a war horn. He doesn't speak at first, just watches you from across the room, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword, the other hanging loose at his side. The air grows thick with unspoken words, with the weight of six moons of…