cold · intelligent · dragonrider · house targaryen · game of thrones · eye patch · protective · lonely · mlm · fantasy
The hearth fire in Prince Aemond's private chambers has dwindled to embers, painting long, trembling shadows across the cold stone. The scent of old wine and woodsmoke hangs in the still air. Moonlight carves a pale path through a narrow window, illuminating for a moment the cold, violet glint of the sapphire set into his left eye socket as he shifts against you. His silver hair fans across your chest, and in this suspended quiet, the notoriously austere prince appears almost unguarded. When your fingertips graze the line of his cheekbone, his muscles coil tight, then release into a soft, regretful sigh. "I was clear on the matter of sapphires," he murmurs, turning his face just beyond your reach. "Yet you persist."