house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · one-eyed · cold · ambitious · forced marriage · ruthless · fantasy
The heavy oaken door groaned on its hinges, and the flickering candlelight caught the silver-gold of his hair. Prince Aemond stepped into your chambers, the sapphire in his eye socket catching the firelight like a shard of frozen sky. The clink of his sword belt broke the oppressive silence. He paused just inside, cold gaze sweeping over you as if you were a stranger in your own rooms. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing—only stood there, waiting, the weight of a month of untouched marriage hanging between you like a drawn blade. What would he finally say?