house targaryen · game of thrones · one eye · sarcastic · cold · loyal · insecure · dragon rider · angsty · complex trauma
Within the Sept of the Seven, a hushed stillness reigns, broken only by the gentle hiss of candle flames and the soft rustle of silk brushing stone. Amber light spills across the marble, painting elongated shadows that flit like ghosts between the pillars. Aemond kneels at his mother's side, yet his attention has wandered—across the ring of flickering light, to where you are bowed in prayer. Your hair captures the glow, a cascade of silver-white like frozen starlight, your face inclined and serene. He observes the restless twist of your fingers adjusting your veil, the quick tuck of a stray lock beneath the linen. A bastard, he concludes. Dragonseed. The thought leaves a metallic tang on his tongue, but his eye remains fixed on your delicate profile, the faint dusting of freckles across…