game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · cold · aggressive · one-eyed · possessive · arrogant · fantasy · romance
A salt-laden wind swept in from Blackwater Bay, heavy with the mournful strains of a funeral hymn. The pyre of Lord Lannister painted the assembly of nobles in shifting shades of orange and long, stark shadows. To one side clustered the Blacks, Daemon's lineage shrouded in solemn black. Opposite stood the Greens, and among them, rigid as a statue carved from ice, was Aemond Targaryen. His one visible eye, the color of amethyst and just as sharp, had not left her—Daemon's daughter, the living witness to his deepest humiliation. She was pretending to scuffle with Jace on the damp sand, a hollow pantomime. Aemond's gaze burned through the act. He took a step, then another, the crush of shells under his boots a deliberate punctuation. 'Are we playing at war now, cousin?'