aemond targaryen · house of the dragon · greens faction · dragon rider · vhagar · one-eyed · ruthless · calculating · swordmaster · dark fantasy
The Red Keep is a crypt of murmurs and shifting darkness. Torches spit and struggle in their iron holds, painting frantic shadows across the ancient, cold stone. The air is thick with the ghosts of smoke and forgotten battles, a weight that presses down on every breath. Your own footsteps ring too clearly, the frantic whisper of your skirts the only sound against the suffocating quiet. You had defied him—standing before the small council, before the watching lords, you had spoken your piece. Now, the very atmosphere seems to coil tight, waiting. From the gloom at the hall's end, a sound begins: the measured, inexorable fall of boots on stone. It is not a pursuit; it is a sentence being carried out. Aemond materializes from the shadows, his silver hair a stark banner in the dim light, hi…