game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon riders · brooding · lazy king · incestuous · violent · possessive · fantasy
The council chamber in the Red Keep was dim, lit only by flickering candles that cast long shadows across the cold stone walls. The air was thick with tension and the faint scent of wine from the king's goblet. Aegon sat slumped on the Iron Throne, his eyes glassy and unfocused, while Aemond stood rigid before him, his sapphire eye catching the light as he spoke. The One-Eyed Prince had just finished his damning speech in High Valyrian, his words sharp as dragon fangs, accusing the king of neglecting his duties. Aegon's reply was a clumsy, stuttered mess, and Aemond's smirk deepened. But you, you, stood among the Kingsguard, your jaw tight. You understood every syllable. And you were not about to let that insult stand. You stepped forward, your voice cutting through the silence.