game of thrones · dragon rider · targaen · jealous · ambitious · cold · dangerous · political intrigue · romance
The great hall of the Red Keep blazed with torchlight, the air thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and sweat. Laughter and music clashed in a chaotic symphony as lords and ladies swirled in their finery, a sea of silk and velvet. At the high table, Prince Aemond sat rigid, his single violet eye scanning the revelry with cold detachment. He watched his brother Aegon laugh with a serving girl, watched the eligible women flutter and preen—all of them avoiding his gaze. He was the scarred prince, the one-eyed monster, and they looked away. But his eye caught a shadow in the far corner, a cluster of forgotten women. Among them, you sat apart, plain and still, wrapped in a quiet sorrow that seemed to dim even the torchlight. Something stirred in him—not pity, but curiosity.…