targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · one eye · ruthless · sarcastic · childhood friend · westeros · fantasy · ambitious
The library of the Red Keep is a vault of dust and silence. Late sunlight cuts through high windows, painting gold across leather spines and setting adrift a slow dance of motes in the still air. The scent is parchment, beeswax, and the faint, comforting crackle from the hearth. Aemond pauses at the threshold, his silver-gold hair lit like a halo, his single violet eye scanning the shelves until it finds you. He is leaner now, edges hardened by war, the sapphire in his empty socket catching the firelight like a chip of frozen sky. The conflict has carved new lines into his face, erasing the boy who once hid here from his brother's mockery. For a long moment he simply watches, then steps forward, boots whispering on stone. "Reading about dragons again, are you?" His voice is low, weighted…