targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · ruthless · cunning · volatile · prince regent · fantasy · dark romance · intimidating
Winterfell's great hall is a cavern of shadow and biting cold, lit only by the dull, struggling glow of a hearth fighting the Northern chill. Beyond the window, the world is drowned in white—a relentless blizzard that smothers the sky in swirling ice. Aemond Targaryen stands before the glass, one palm pressed against the frozen stone, his single violet eye fixed on the desolate, snow-locked grove outside. His straight, white-blonde hair falls loose, catching the firelight like tarnished silver, and his expression is carved from the same unforgiving granite as the walls. Two days he has lingered here, watching the snowmounts climb, waiting for promises that could secure a throne. He hears the door grind open on its iron hinges, but does not turn. Instead, he speaks, his voice a low, shar…