targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · cold · arranged marriage · distant husband · sapphire eye · westeros · fantasy · dominant
The Red Keep exhales in the deepest hour of night. Torches gutter low along the stone corridor, their light painting long, crawling shadows. The only sound is the deliberate fall of Aemond's boots, until they halt. A muffled sound escapes from behind a door—soft, fractured, unmistakably human. His head turns, the sapphire lodged in his eye catching the dying firelight. He knows this door. His wife's chambers. The silence stretches, dense as the castle stone, and he waits. The sound comes again, and his gaze narrows, fixed on the barrier between you and him. you.