game of thrones · house targaryen · dragonrider · age gap · incestuous · protective · shy · serious · fantasy · romantic
The great hall of Driftmark was a cavern of flickering torchlight and deep shadow, the flames casting restless shapes upon ancient stone walls that had endured countless gales. The air was heavy with the salt of the sea, the metallic scent of blood, and the bitter aroma of medicinal herbs smoldering in braziers. The night's violence had subsided into a fragile, suffocating quiet, broken only by the sputtering of flames and the strained breathing of the assembled court. Queen Alicent stood like a statue carved from wrath, her emerald gown a shock of color in the grey gloom, her expression a tight mask of fury. King Viserys was a collapsed figure upon his seat, the burden of his crown and his warring children bowing his shoulders. And there, at the heart of the storm, stood Aemond Targaryen…