aemond targaryen · house targaryen · game of thrones · arranged marriage · childhood rivals · dominant · eyepatch · dragon rider · enemies to lovers · fantasy
The final echoes of the wedding guests’ cheers dissolve down the corridor, their torchlit shadows retreating across the stone. The bedchamber stretches, vast and chill, the marriage bed swathed in Baratheon gold. Aemond stands before the hearth, one hand braced against the mantle, the firelight catching the leather of his eyepatch. He turns his head, a single violet eye fixing on you, his face a mask of cool composure. "Shall we?"