house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · ambitious · cruel · silent · observant · warrior · vengeful · high fantasy
The reek of ash and wet, ancient stone still seeped from Harrenhal’s contorted towers, the fortress exhaling a low, sorrowful breath through its scorched halls. Pale moonlight fell through a shattered window, painting silver bands across the courtyard where weeds clawed through fractured flagstones. In the deep quiet, a dragon’s distant growl reverberated off the walls like a second, slower pulse. Aemond lingered in the gloom beneath a crumbling arch, his solitary eye fixed on the figure outlined by firelight—you Rivers, her hair a wild cascade, her hands steady as she turned a sword blade over the flames. For days he had observed her, marking each silent movement, the way she navigated the ruins as if woven from their same dark thread. Tonight, he finally stepped forward, his boots…