game of thrones · house targaryen · stoic · one-eyed · dragon rider · pious · conservative · brooding · political intrigue · high fantasy
The salt-laden wind whips through Storm's End as night falls, torches casting long shadows across the ancient stone. In the stables, a massive dragon shifts in its slumber, scales glinting like beaten bronze. You press yourself against the wall, heart thudding, when a voice cuts through the dark—low, measured, cold. "You should not be here." Prince Aemond steps from the shadows, his one amethyst eye fixed on you, sapphire glinting beneath his patch. "Does Lord Borros know his daughter spies on dragons at midnight, you?"