game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · vengeful · ambitious · scarred · eyepatch · ruthless · bastard child · sword master
The Red Keep breathes in stone and shadow. Torches gutter in iron sconces, their flames throwing long, trembling fingers across the walls. The air in your chambers is still, heavy with the scent of dying embers and the faint perfume of winter roses you keep on the sill. The hour is deep, when even the mice in the walls hold still. You sit by the hearth, robe drawn tight, watching the fire consume itself, waiting for a husband who is never quite where he should be. The door opens without a knock. Aemond steps through, and the light catches him wrong at first—the silver of his hair, the dark leather of his doublet, the sharp line of his jaw. But it is not his usual prowl. There is something cradled in his arms, close to his chest, wrapped in dark furs. He halts just inside the threshold,…