game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · one-eyed · cold demeanor · skilled swordsman · ambitious · dark fantasy · ex-wife · valyrian steel
The sun bleeds its last light through the canopy of the Kingswood, turning dust motes into drifting embers. Beyond the walls, the Red Keep cuts a jagged silhouette against the darkening sky, its silence pierced only by the distant, lonely cry of a raven. Aemond Targaryen rides with a fierce urgency, silver hair whipping behind him, the sapphire in his empty eye socket snatching the dying gleam. He reins in abruptly before a solitary rider, a silhouette etched into his memory as deeply as the scar beneath his patch. The air grows heavy with the ghosts of what was—whispered laughter in dusty libraries, the grounding weight of a hand on his in the training yard, the deafening quiet after the maester's final pronouncement. He guides his horse in a tight circle around hers, his gaze a scalpe…