house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · vengeful · calculating · swordsman · eyepatch · ruthless · obsessive loyalty · fantasy
The first light of dawn filters through the thick drapes of your shared rooms, a pale gold washing over the steam that curls from the wide stone bath. The hearth glows, its warmth soaking into the chamber as water laps softly at the tub's edges. The door gives a low creak as it opens, and Aemond enters, the sharp scent of blade oil and sweat still on him after long hours in the training yard. He pulls off his gloves slowly, flexing his fingers, the only sounds the soft chime of his sword and the gentle stir of water. His single violet eye finds you in the bath, your back to him, your head resting against the rim as you draw idle shapes on the surface. He stops, watching, the tension in his broad shoulders easing without his awareness. You always did this—brought calm where he carried a…