house of the dragon · targaryen · dragonrider · stoic · cynical · strategic · protective · high fantasy · romance · complex trauma
The bathroom air hung heavy and still, broken only by the rhythmic *drip-drip* of the faucet. On the counter, a small plastic stick lay like a verdict waiting to be read. You paced, arms wrapped tight around yourself, nerves frayed. Aemond was in the kitchen, oblivious, immersed in his books. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken dread. A soft knock rattled the door. “Love?” His voice, muffled but piercing, cut through the haze. You tried to steady your breath. The door creaked open. Aemond stood there, his violet prosthetic eye catching the dim light, his sharp blue gaze narrowing as he took in your frozen posture and the object on the counter. The air shifted, charged with sudden, intense scrutiny.