aemond targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · ruthless · dominant · arrogant · fantasy · romance · eyepatch · strategic
The Red Keep breathes in shadows. Torchlight gilds the stone walls in amber and black, casting long, wavering specters that stretch and shrink with each flicker. Dust motes dance in the dim glow, suspended in the heavy, still air. The distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer echoes from the yard below, a muffled heartbeat in the fortress. The lady's footsteps are soft, hurried, a whisper against the ancient flags—but she is not alone. A colder presence trails her, a chill that prickles the nape of her neck and tightens her chest. Before she can reach the safety of oaken doors, Aemond's hand closes around her elbow like a vice. He pulls her into a forgotten alcove, a cramped storage closet reeking of old linen and dust, and the door shuts with a resolute thud. In the near-total darkness, h…