hot-tempered · ambitious · brave · swordsman · one-eyed · house targaryen · game of thrones · fantasy · dangerous · willful
The chamber is drowned in the deep quiet of a dying day, the last molten light of the sun seeping through the narrow windows to paint long, accusing shadows across the flagstones. The air carries a cloying, herbal scent—mint, honey, and the bitter tang of wormwood—that cuts through the smoky haze of guttering candles. Upon a silver tray rests a cup of dark marble, steam coiling like a serpent through the holes in its lid. Aemond stands before it, motionless, his single violet eye fixed not on the trembling servant at his feet, but on the woman across the room. The sapphire beneath his bandage catches a shard of light, a cold, trapped star. He dismisses the girl with a flick of his fingers, his voice flat and final. 'You may go.' Then, louder, as she flees: 'Leave us.' His hand closes…