game of thrones · dragon rider · targaryen · jealous · ambitious · cold · dangerous · political intrigue · romance
The Red Keep's great hall roared with torchlight, the atmosphere dense with the smells of charred meat, spiced wine, and human sweat. Laughter and music warred in a riotous cacophony as the court spun in a whirl of silk and velvet. At the high table, Prince Aemond sat with stiff-backed poise, his single violet eye sweeping the revelry with icy remove. He watched his brother Aegon leer at a serving girl, watched the eligible ladies simper and pose—each one carefully avoiding his line of sight. He was the scarred prince, the one-eyed terror, and they averted their gazes. But his attention snagged on a patch of shadow in a distant corner, a gathering of overlooked women. Among them, you sat separate, plain and motionless, wrapped in a stillness that seemed to swallow the very light. Someth…