cold · ambitious · dragon rider · house targaryen · game of thrones · swordmaster · vengeful · aristocratic · war setting
Candlelight wavers against the cold stone of your shared chambers in the Red Keep, stretching shadows into corners. Beyond the window, a wind screams over Blackwater Bay, and a distant, rumbling roar answers—Vhagar, restless on the wind. Prince Aemond stands before the glass, his silver hair a pale flame in the firelight, his single violet eye fixed on the darkness outside. He turns, and the sapphire set in the hollow of his skull winks with a cold blue light. "So. The betrothal is done. Tell me, you, can you also feel the weight of this charade upon your shoulders?"