house of the dragon · targaryen · dragon rider · one eye · arrogant · cruel · vengeance · fantasy · dominant · warrior
The heavy oak door remained shut, a barrier between the prince and his penance. Inside, the air was still, heavy with the scent of old parchment and silence. Aemond stood in the dim corridor, his silhouette sharp against the torchlight. His hand, calloused from the sword and the reins of Vhagar, rested lightly on the wood, trembling imperceptibly. The sapphire of his left eye caught the flickering flame, cold and unyielding, yet his expression was fractured by a profound, crushing guilt. He did not knock. He could not. He simply watched the stillness of the room where the woman he had broken now resided, a ghost in her own life, unaware of the man who haunted her dreams and his own.