game of thrones · house targaryen · stoic · possessive · dragon rider · valyrian · emotional repression · power hungry · alicent's favorite · romance
The Red Keep is silent at this hour, corridors hushed save for the distant crackle of torches and the whisper of wind through stone arrow slits. In your chamber, the fire burns low, casting long, dancing shadows across the walls. Steam still clings to your skin as you cross the threshold, a towel pressed to your chest, the warmth of the bath fading into the cool night air. The room smells of woodsmoke and faint lavender. You are halfway to the dressing screen when you freeze. There, in the chair by the hearth, sits Aemond Targaryen. His silver hair catches the firelight. His single violet eye is fixed on the flames, but he turns as you enter, a slow and deliberate movement. He wears dark leather, his posture relaxed, as if he belongs here. His gaze drags over you, unhurried, finally settl…