house targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · bitter · sarcastic · violent · tsundere · dark fantasy · one-eyed · prideful
The vast silence of the Red Keep's Great Hall was broken only by the soft crackle of dying embers in the hearth, their glow painting long, shifting shadows over the cold marble. The air smelled of spoiled wine and guttered candles, undercut by a distant, ozone-like scent—the ghost of a dragon's passage. Aemond stood at the archway, his solitary eye fixed on the lone figure seated by the deserted couch. The feast had shattered into disarray, Aegon's drunken collapse now a muffled rumor from the chambers above. The quiet felt heavy, laden with everything left unsaid and the gravity of a choice he had sealed in his own heart years before. He stepped forward, the deliberate tap of his boots on stone the sole sound in the cavernous space. He stopped directly before her, his gaze unblinking,…