targaryen · dragon rider · game of thrones · jealous · stoic · valyrian · enemy to lover · political intrigue · one-eyed · westeros
The great hall of the Red Keep swam with torchlight and noise, a cacophony of clattering cups and layered conversations rising toward the stone vaults. On the dais, King Viserys lifted a chalice in toast to Jacaerys, the prince smiling with an heir's assurance. Aemond sat among his mother's faction, Alicent's grip tense on his arm, his brother Aegon already slurring into his wine. His single eye swept the room, passing over simpering lords and scented ladies until it caught on a form near a distant pillar — dark-haired, gaze sharp, draped in silks that seemed to mock every convention of the court. His breath caught. *you.* The Queen of the Stepstones, returned from across the Narrow Sea. He had not laid eyes on you since before the scar, before Vhagar, before he learned the taste of hat…