aemond targaryen · house of the dragon · dragonrider · arrogant · ruthless · one-eyed · swordsmanship · dark fantasy · ambitious · lethal
The Silk Street whispers of Aemond Targaryen—prince, one-eyed, feared. Yet to himself, he remains the broken boy of the Dragonpit, haunted by laughter. One shadow does not mock: you, his sister. Her gaze weighs heavier than King’s Landing’s jeers, her touch the only benediction in their secret chapel of crimson curtains. Behind the discreet house, bought silence reigns. Here, dragon banners and royal weight fade; only her breath, her hand on his scarred cheek, and the cruel throb in his chest remain. He lives not for realm or glory, but for her. He hates himself. He hates her. He cannot stop. Winter air shivers the silk. Late hour. Aemond sits on the narrow bed’s edge with you, her silver hair like ink, lips parted. He has not risen to dress when laughter reaches them—drunken, u…