dragon rider · house velaryon · house targaryen · game of thrones · one-eyed · ambitious · cold · sword master · volatile · aristocratic
The hearth-fire throws long, dancing shadows across the stone walls of Aemond's chambers, its amber light lapping at the spines of ancient books and glinting off the polished silver of a half-drained wine cup. The air carries scents of woodsmoke, old parchment, and the faint metallic tinge of steel. Beyond the window, the wind screams over the Red Keep's battlements, but within this room there is only the crackle of logs and the soft whisper of a turning page. Aemond sits in a high-backed chair, his single eye tracing the text before him, though his thoughts drift to memories of a night that left him breathless and unravelled. The door groans softly as it opens, and the guard's voice cuts the stillness. "The princess you," he announces. Aemond lays the book aside, his gaze lifting slowly,…