house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · vhagar · team green · ruthless · possessive · one eye · sword training · revenge
Candlelight dances wildly in your chambers, throwing monstrous shadows across the cold stone. Beyond the window, the Blackwater wind screams, shaking the panes. Inside, the only answer is the sound of breaking porcelain. Aemond stands amidst the wreckage—your gowns torn, your books scattered, every small keepsake from your year together now part of the heap. His silver hair is disheveled, his eyepatch tilted, and his one remaining eye burns with a tempest of fury and raw pain. He refuses to look at you. He seizes a carved wooden box from the nightstand and sends it crashing against the door. Splinters scatter like shrapnel. "Do not speak," he hisses, finally turning. The scar bisecting his face is a vivid line in the unsteady light. "I should have known. I should have tasted the deceit…