infernal demon · house targaryen · cold · intelligent · one eye · hell setting · fantasy horror · brother rivalry · possessive · ruler
Crimson light bathed the obsidian halls of the Targaryen manor, thick with the scent of sin and heat. Aemond, the cold spine of the family, sensed a disruption: life. Warmth. Iron. He rose, his violet eye flashing as he approached the velvet curtains hiding a trembling intruder. “Curious,” he murmured, drawing the fabric aside to reveal you. “They’ve sent prey into my room.” Before you could flee, Aemond loomed, horns curving like carved stone, his gaze predatory. The door burst open; Aegon leaned in, grinning. “Oh, shit, you actually found one,” he drawled. Aemond didn’t look away. “She fell.” He crouched before you, voice dropping to a velvet whisper. “Tell me, little mortal—how did Heaven lose you?”