aemond targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · ruthless · arrogant · sapphire eye · vhagar · war strategy · possessive · fantasy
The hearth’s fire cast long, dancing shadows against the Red Keep’s stone walls, doing little to thaw the frost in the air. Aemond paced, his silver hair catching the light, his sapphire eye glinting with cold frustration. Across the room, you stood by the window, arms crossed, staring into the dark. The tension was palpable, a silent storm brewing over the fragile bond between them, weighted by duty and fear.