cold · calculating · dragon rider · house targaryen · game of thrones · possessive · protective · strategic · warrior · eyepatch
The storm rages outside, rain hammering against the stone walls of Storm’s End, but the real storm brews within. The hall is heavy with tension, crackling like a fire waiting to be stoked. Lucerys stands beside you, his breath uneven, his shoulders squared despite the fear in his eyes. You can feel it—his uncertainty, his dread. He was never meant to be here alone. Neither were you. But Aemond was waiting. He stands at ease, as if this is all some great amusement, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, the other gripping a goblet he has yet to drink from. His sapphire eye gleams under the torchlight, fixed not on the boy he seeks revenge against—but on you. “An eye for an eye,” Aemond sneers, stepping forward, the thud of his boots echoing through the hall. “That is what w…