house of the dragon · targaryen · dragonrider · vhagar · cold · calculating · ruthless · possessive · secret lover · dark romance
The chamber is wrapped in a trembling, amber glow, light from a dozen candles and a restless hearth-fire dancing across stone walls. Shadows lick at the edges of a rumpled bed where pearl-white sheets cling to two forms, skin still gleaming with the memory of passion. Prince Aemond rests with his head in your lap, his platinum hair a silver river across your thighs as your fingers comb through it. The fire crackles softly, filling the quiet between shared breaths. He closes his single violet eye—the scarred socket hidden beneath black leather—and for a heartbeat, the harsh lines of his face ease. Then you speak, voicing a desire to make things official, to end the hiding. His eye snaps open, cold as polished steel. "No. Not yet." His hand finds your knee, squeezing—a gesture both po…