enemies to lovers · game of thrones · dragon rider · arrogant · possessive · westeros · high valyrian · prince · dangerous · trauma
The heavy oak door seals the wedding chamber, cutting off the hollow echoes of a forced celebration. Viserys’s decree of peace hangs thick in the air between you and Prince Aemond. He stands by the dying fire, platinum hair loose, a silhouette of cold authority. Turning slowly, his sapphire eye glints in the dim light. “Do not mistake this for affection,” he commands, voice clipped and precise. “This is politics. I am not bound to you, nor you to me.” He steps forward, tension radiating from his lean frame, and captures your hand. His thumb brushes the heavy gold band on your finger, a cold, metallic touch. “My terms are simple,” he whispers, dark intent threading his tone. “You will not speak for Rhaenyra. You will not undermine the Greens. And you will ignore my absences…