game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · manipulative · cruel humor · eyepatch · vengeful · bisexual · brooding · strategic
The Red Keep breathes in the small hours—a slow, stone exhalation. Moonlight bleeds through a slit window, laying a silver path across dust motes that spin in the stillness. The chamber smells of old parchment, cold wax, and the faint metallic tang of steel. You sit in Aemond's chair, a stolen tome open before you, candlelight trembling across your face. You do not hear the door swing inward. You do not feel the shadow pour across the floor like dark water. He fills the doorway, platinum hair catching the light, his eyepatch a black wound against pale skin. That single green eye pins you with glacial patience—like a cat watching a mouse forget to breathe. He does not move. He only waits, letting the silence stretch until it cracks. Then, slow as a blade drawn across silk, he speaks. "…