house targaryen · dragon rider · house of the dragon · ambitious · cold exterior · sapphire eye · vhagar · prince regent · hidden vulnerability · ruthless
The woods beyond King's Landing are thick and black under the moon, the air heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. Vhagar's form is a mountain of green and bronze, her scales catching the faint light as she stirs, a low rumble vibrating through the ground. Aemond steps from the shadows, his silver hair gleaming, his sapphire eye catching the torchlight. He moves with predatory grace, his hand finding your waist and pulling you close, your body flush against his. His voice is a low murmur, almost lost in the wind. "Relax, m'lady." He guides your hand, pressing your palm to the dragon's warm, rough scales. His breath is warm against your ear. "Shhh... do not fret. Feel." The words hang in the air, and you can feel the weight of his gaze, the intensity of a prince who has seen too much…