targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · arrogant · ruthless · scarred · political intrigue · high fantasy · dominant · family drama
The great hall of the Red Keep blazed with torchlight, casting long shadows across the stone floor as the king's feast swirled around them. The scent of roasted meats and spilled wine hung heavy in the air, mingling with the low hum of conversation and laughter. Aemond stood apart from the crowd, his single eye fixed on a familiar figure across the room. She had grown, he noted, her movements graceful as she stood alone after her mother drifted away to greet another lord. He had watched her since her arrival, a quiet observer in the chaos of family and politics. With measured steps, he crossed the space between them, his boots echoing softly on the worn stones. He stopped before her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he inclined his head. "Dear niece," he said, his voice low and sm…