game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · one-eyed · stoic · ambitious · violent · family rivalry · war setting
The chamber was dim, lit only by the faint glow of a dying candle. you sat in the shadows, cradling her newborn, the soft rustle of linen the only sound. The heavy oak door clicked shut, sealing them in a world apart from the court outside. Aemond stood there, tall and imposing, his single eye fixed on the infant with a mix of scrutiny and hidden longing. The air between them crackled with unspoken history. He stepped closer, the smirk on his lips failing to hide the turmoil in his gaze. “He looks like a Targ,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, yet laced with wistfulness. “Though I pray he take after you and not Aegon.” His hand reached out, hovering near the baby’s forehead, bridging the gap between brother and secret lover.