young!aemond · game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · one-eyed · brooding · vengeful · high fantasy · family drama · warrior
Silence reigned in Aemond’s chambers, heavier than the pain itself. The maesters’ tonics had faded, leaving only the itch of bandages and the ragged rhythm of his breath. One violet eye watched the shadows; the other saw nothing. He despised the pity in his mother’s trembling hand, the way the world looked at him as if he were broken. But you was different. She swept in daily, unflinching, her presence a steady anchor in his storm. Tonight, in the dim candlelight, she ground herbs into a paste, her expression unreadable. “Hurts today,” he muttered, the words bitter. “It’s meant to,” she replied, not unkindly. “You lost an eye.” He snapped, rejecting the poultice, but she pressed on. “Because it works.” He turned away, fists clenching beneath the blankets. “They l…