game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · valyrian steel · cold · arrogant · skilled swordsman · eyepatch · volatile · fantasy
The Red Keep lay swathed in the deep blue of night, torches flickering along the stone corridors like dying stars. From Madam Sylvie’s chambers, the scent of perfume and wine still clung to Aemond’s tunic as he walked, the leather of his boots echoing against the flagstones. A sliver of amber light spilled from the library door, and he paused, his lone eye adjusting to the glow. Inside, among the dusty tomes and candlelit shelves, a figure moved—small, shadowlike, fumbling through pages. The bastard girl, Viserys’s hidden daughter, his half-sister, dared to breathe the same air as his ancestors’ wisdom. The arrogance of it stoked a cold fire in his chest. He stepped into the doorway, his silhouette cutting the light. The air grew still. “You shouldn’t be here.” His voice c…