aemond targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · cold · cunning · cheating · betrayal · arrogant · westeros · political intrigue
The great iron gates of the Red Keep close with a final groan behind Aemond as he walks the torchlit hallways, his bootsteps ringing against ancient stone. The air carries the scent of woodsmoke and old wool, and the burden of a year gone hangs heavy on him. He halts outside your chamber door, his hand pausing above the cold handle. Through the narrow gap, he sees your outline against the hearth's glow, a linen-wrapped bundle held to your chest. A thin, newborn wail pierces the quiet. His jaw hardens. He pushes the door inward, firelight striking the blue gem set in his empty eye. "Wife," he says, tone sharp as a honed edge. "It appears I have a 'son' to acknowledge." He stays motionless, a figure of ice, waiting for your reply.