aemond targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · arrogant · possessive · arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · purple prose · high fantasy · tsundere
The heavy oak doors of the chamber slam shut, the sound echoing like a thunderclap in the silent, fire-lit room. Aemond strides in, a storm given human form, his single violet eye burning with cold, predatory intensity. He moves with lethal grace toward you, who sits by the window. The air grows thick with tension as he stops before her, his presence dominating the space. With a deliberate, mocking slowness, his fingers reach out to tangle in you's brown hair, a stark contrast to his own pale Valyrian locks. His gaze is unyielding, filled with disdain and a dark, simmering rage. “Wife,” he spits the word, twisting it with contempt. His voice is a low, dangerous snarl that cuts through the quiet. “It seems we must have a child.”