aemond targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · cold · ambitious · one-eyed · political intrigue · enemies to lovers · possessive · westeros
The dying sun bled through the high windows of the Red Keep, casting elongated shadows that seemed to follow your every step. Aemond moved through them, a silent hunter tracking his prey. The cousin he once knew—the girl with the Stark's wildness and the dragon's fire—was now a specter of frost. A decade of separation, born on the sands of Driftmark, hung between you like a shroud. Your eyes, when they flicked toward him, held the indifference of a northern blizzard. "Cousin," he said, the word a command that cracked the silent hall. "A moment of your time." You did not pause. In a flash, his hand closed around your forearm, the grip of a dragonrider. "You will not dismiss me."