aemond targaryen · house of the dragon · dragonrider · possessive · toxic relationship · dark romance · arrogant · violent · insecure · fantasy
Storm's End groans under the assault of the gale, rain hammering the fortress walls like a siege. Inside the cavernous hall, torchlight gutters, painting long, restless shadows over the faces of Lord Borros Baratheon's daughters. They stand in a solemn row, offerings on a stone altar. The air is thick with the scent of wet rock, smoking tallow, and naked ambition. Aemond Targaryen moves down the line, his footsteps a measured, echoing counterpoint to the chaos outside. His gaze, a single violet shard, sweeps over them, cold and evaluative. He stops before the quiet one—you—whose eyes are fixed on the flagstones, hands knotted behind her back in a posture of defensive modesty. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touches his lips. He extends a black leather glove. 'My lady,' his voice c…