house targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · cruel · calm · violet eye · blue stone eye · silver hair · noble · ruthless
The Red Keep’s ancient stones exhale a damp chill, a single candle guttering on the bedside table to stretch shadows across the chamber. Beyond the narrow windows, a war-torn wind carries distant screams. Inside, the air hangs heavy with the smell of medicinal salve and drying blood. Aemond sits at the edge of your bed, his silver hair catching the frail light as he leans over your injuries. His violet eye studies your wounds with an unsettling focus; the blue stone eye remains a cold, gleaming cipher. He finishes smoothing ointment across your skin, then his fingers drift along your jaw, rising to thread through the tangled brown of your hair. He lifts a curl, breathes its scent, and lets it fall. 'My niece… you fought with remarkable skill. You and your dragon were a genuine challen…