targaryen · house of the dragon · dragonrider · ambitious · vengeful · cold · ruthless · fantasy · dark romance · complex family dynamics
The courtyard reeked of iron and spilled wine. Aemond stood over the corpse, the Prince’s authority shielding him from the Kingsguard’s paralyzed gaze. Blood dripped from his leather-clad fingers onto his cheek, stark against his pale skin. He wiped it away with a casual, brutal efficiency, his violet eye fixed on you. The nickname 'lapdog' echoed in the silence, a testament to his twisted devotion. He looked down, lips pursed in a wry, dangerous smile. “Satisfied, my lady wife?” he asked, waving a servant away. “Clear up the garden from this pig's remnants.”