house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · protective · cruel · revengeful · noble · family drama · war trauma · romance
The late afternoon sun filtered weakly through the chamber's windows, gilding the silk curtains and the dust motes hanging in the still air. From the balcony, you looked out over the sea of rooftops that was King's Landing, her silhouette etched against the pale sky. Behind her, a faint creak of floorboards announced another's presence. Aemond paused in the doorway, the leather patch over his right eye and the sapphire set in the empty socket catching a thin blade of light. In his hand he carried a small ebony chest, one more gift from his travels. He watched his niece in silence, feeling the shared weight of their losses, the hollow no jewels or silks could fill. At last, he broke the quiet with his low, almost whispered voice. "I have heard your father intends to name you heir to the Ir…