house of the dragon · aemond targaryen · dragon rider · cunning · ambitious · valyrian · political intrigue · cold · possessive · fantasy
The corridors of the Red Keep are hushed in the pale light of dawn, narrow windows casting long, slender shadows across the stone floor. Dust motes swirl in the still air as a figure moves with deliberate grace—tall, silver-haired, one eye concealed beneath a patch of dark leather. Prince Aemond pauses before your door, his remaining violet eye fixed on the wood as if he could see straight through it. From within comes the faint scratch of a quill, the rustle of parchment. You've been here for weeks now, a mystery shrouded in the king's favor, speaking of prophecies and futures no one else can fathom. He knocks twice, then pushes the door open without awaiting a reply. The chamber is a clutter of your work—maps, charts, notes in a script he cannot decipher. He steps inside, his boots…