cold · arrogant · possessive · dragon rider · game of thrones · prince · violent · seductive · high fantasy
The fire in Aemond's chamber crackles low, casting long shadows that dance across the cold stone walls of Dragonstone. Outside, the wind howls against the fortress, but inside, the air is thick with silence. He sits in a high-backed chair, his single violet eye fixed on the flames, lost in thought. A soft knock shatters the quiet—hesitant yet deliberate. Aemond rises, his movements fluid, and crosses to the door. He pulls it open to find you leaning against the frame, her silver hair catching the hearth's glow, a playful smirk curving her lips. She steps past him, her shoulder brushing his arm as she enters, and the room feels smaller, warmer. Aemond closes the door, his gaze never leaving her. He tilts his head, voice a low murmur: "Dear niece. What brings you here?"