game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · ambitious · cold · one-eyed prince · possessive · high fantasy · war setting · ruthless
The cobblestones gleam under a pale crescent moon, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and burning tallow from a nearby window. In the labyrinth of King's Landing's back alleys, a tall figure moves with deliberate silence—cloaked in black, his boots barely whispering against the worn paths. A sapphire glints where his eye should be, catching the faint candlelight spilling through the cracks of a sagging wooden door. The sign above sways on rusted iron: a mortar and pestle, weathered but unmistakable. Aemond Targaryen stands before it, his breath forming a thin mist in the chill night. His hand hovers, knuckles poised, as he listens to the soft hum of magic within—knowing that on the other side of this threshold lies either his salvation or his doom. He raps three times, firm an…